I knew it. I just knew that there was some magical, unknown force holding our family and our home together. Why am I not surprised to find out that perhaps the magic pixie dust that is working so well is ... dust.
A day of housecleaning unveiled this fact. The plaster that came off a wall when I took down a tension rod. The toilet seat that broke when I put the rod (ever so carefully aligning the paint and plaster back to its original spot). The blind slats that broke when I scrubbed off the grease. Then ... the computer that died after it was vacuumed when My Son replaced the power supply yesterday (which I didn't think was a very good idea at the time).
Then came the little things. I was just a little bit grumpier than usual when all of my freshly scrubbed surfaces became dirty so soon after I had cleaned them. Suddenly I was thinking of things as 'my kitchen' and 'my house'. When it is clean ... it is mine. When it is lived in and swiped-down-as-we-go it is ours.
I don't like it when I hear married people talk of joint property with the word 'my' as the possessive pronoun. I cringe when I hear this. If this is the word that spills off a person's tongue, I can only imagine the 'possessive' self-talk that is ongoing in their mind.
Personally? I do believe I will try to hold onto a little bit of this perspective as I deal with the ongoing issue of dust and dirt. It is our dirt. And I will treat it accordingly.
If obsessiveness overtakes my cleaning and turns 'ours' into 'mine', I will know that I have gone a little too far.
Everything in moderation, you see. Even housecleaning!
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