On Productivity…and Lunch

I just finished putting my youngest son’s room back together. Two painters were in there over the past few days, prepping then painting the walls. The carpet caught all of the extra tape and shavings and gunk from the painter’s shoes (and God knows what else my son dropped), so I gave it a good vacuum and swept along the edges where there is no rug.

The painter coated his walls with white–actually, “Marshmallow”–and then, to make his room less boring, stripes on three of the walls. But I saved the good stuff for myself: today I began the mural I promised him on the wall. I’m certainly not the most artistic person west of the Mississippi but I can hold my own. I’m simply copying the MLB logo over his bed. It’ll be painted in the colors of the stripes that run on the other three walls, so I’m thinking it’ll look pretty good as long as I can get the brim of the hat and the batter’s nose to stop looking like a duck’s bill.

Lest I be too productive, I just broke for lunch. While I cleaned and blue-taped the rectangle for the logo and sketched right onto his newly painted walls, my cauliflower roasted. I had a whole head in there, chopped up with olive oil, salt and pepper. Every twenty minutes or so, I broke to stir it up, so that the edges would be brown and crispy by the time I put them on my plate. I chopped the parsley, a wedge of lemon, and got out red pepper flakes.

And I might not get back to this mural until tomorrow. Luckily I left his bed sitting in the middle of the room, like a thrown for the little king he wishes he was.

Meanwhile, lunch for me. A pause between morning and afternoon, not that there seems to be much difference in the two chunks of time. They each have healthy parts (brisk walks, good meals) but they also have five or six errands or tasks that fall downhill to me. I’m the doer in the family, though in this pause I’m allowing myself a brief moment to think of the possibility where my life is not filled with random bits of tasks. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that productivity could mean a whole lot more than cooking, cleaning, laundry, and a random mural here and there.

Published by schwarzkate

Woman. Mother. Wife. Hiker. Crossfitter. Runner. Dog walker. Home chef. Volunteer. Wannabe writer. Task master extraordinaire.

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