Where will you be when the urge to write hits you? Sometimes I am in bed begging sleep to overtake me. A lot of the time, this is the case. Sometimes I am waiting on weekenders and have no time to get to my laptop and will write myself a note, lest I forget what prompted my thoughts to try to become words.
Today, I am slap dab in the middle of putting the bedrooms back together. For our Christmas/45th Anniversary we gifted ourselves a new bed. Adjustable bed that is. I can now hit a button marked SNORE and it will raise the head of the offender. Not only that, it has heaters and vibrators and even USB ports to plug our phones in!
Knowing the bed was in transit, I began the preparation to move out the old and bring in the new. I am a planner. I like for things to run smoothly and I can pull it off as long as HeWho doesn't "help" me.
For two days I moved furniture with no help. I did not want help. I removed all the drawers and then was able to manage the two large dressers on my own. I figured I should empty those drawers and refold everything before putting those drawers to order. Then I decided to purge said drawers of things no longer in use. My stuff was pretty much in order, but I did toss a lot of clothes I no longer wear since I have shed a few pounds. My car back seat is full of discards that I will donate.
I have noticed that lately, HeWho should be old enough to dress himself, has been wearing mismatched socks. I do the laundry and I know things. Since he has been underfoot a lot lately, I have left his folded laundry for him to put away. Big mistake. His sock drawer was absolute chaos. The socks that I so carefully pair together were all singles looking for mates. I dumped the contents on my bed. He has a large sock drawer and two small ones. I paired all the socks I could and eliminated odd and holey ones. Why would you unpair the socks? When did he pull them apart? Was it when he put them all helter skelter in the drawer, or when he was dressing himself in the morning? And I usually toss the ones with holes before I add them to the wash, so where did all these socks with holes come from? So many questions for someone who will just say, "What do you mean?" Do his socks have secret lives?
But, I digress. I was talking about wanting to put words to "paper" (so to speak). My urge came today while HeWho was cutting a mattress with inner springs in half. I will tell you about this in a later post. I had been getting a space ready and moved quite a bit of our belongings around and happened to look in on him when I saw that he was using some kind of power tool and sparks were flying. Inside the house. Sparks, actually, inside the mattress. And that is when the urge hit me. Was I trying to escape? Maybe. HeWho is my inspiration, doesn't need to try to give me material; it just happens! Oh, no fires resulted from the actions of HeWho inspires me!