granny

It's weird how simple things can trigger a memory. My Granny was a cleaner. She always kept her house clean-no clutter. But the floors.


THE. FLOORS.


She would walk across any floor, didn't matter where she was, if something was in the floor she'd bend down and pick it up. Every. Time. Even when she was so far off her rocker and didn't want to get out of bed because she was having a bad day with her health. She'd wander out to the living room see something in the floor and pick it up. We always just stared at her like really Granny, you feel awful, leave the piece of paper in the floor. But she wouldn't. She always kept on with that paper. I used to roll my eyes and think she was nuts when I was younger. Now I look back and appreciate her tenacity.


I was sitting on the couch last night looking at my floors. They're disgusting. The dog chewed paper, wood, plastic...you name it, he's chewed it. Carter chews paper and between the two chewers the floor shows their evidence. Gross.


I started to think about Granny and how she'd roll over in her grave if she knew my floors had so much debris.


I had the kids clean the big chunks of chew debris and toys and clothes and what ever else seems to get drug out but is no ones fault because we have elves in our house that make a mess and it's never the kids fault. Is this just at my house? I vacuumed. The vacuum broke because if you want your vacuum to die send it to my house. I took it all apart and put it back together and it worked. I continued my task and my floors look awesomely clean now.


I'm thankful for Granny and her OCD-floor-debris ways. She taught me to keep on keeping on.