I’ve noticed an odd sound as I stride to and fro in my house. It is the sound of rustling….no, maybe crunching. And upon closer inspection, I’ve discovered that there are leaves on my floor. Obviously not content to merely drift down from the trees and rest on a cushy green bed of grass, they have somehow crept, blown and snuck their way into my house.
Although trying to keep a “low profile”, I’ve noticed them lingering in the corners of my hardwood floor. Perhaps they were cold; maybe even lonely. For once inside, they have the company of tiny bits of paper, soft balls of cat hair, twisty ties (from bread wrappers), rubber bands, bits of apple peels (that the dogs missed) and of course a stray lego or two. Whatever the reason, I’ve decided they must not stay.
I will soon find my royal blue, nylon-bristled brush, and shoo them into my wastebasket….right after I put away the washed dishes, both from the counter and dishwasher, fold the clothes and put them away, clean the kitchen counter for the 63rd time, make my son’s Halloween costume, fix myself some lunch, make a grocery list, feed the cat, and the dogs, change the sheets on all the beds, scrub the toilets, fix the kids a snack (yes, I’ll wash my hands after the toilets…), file my coupons and fix dinner.
Screw it. A few leaves never hurt anybody.
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