Bathroom as metaphor for universe...

Occasionally I find myself frustrated that, when it comes to housework, Mr.Q didn't have the benefit of "proper" instruction as a child. (If you understand "proper" to mean "my mother trained him") Still, he does his share, and usually without complaint. This didn't use to be the case...until a friend, hearing him kvetch about it, suggested he think of housework as a way to bring a small measure of order to the chaos of daily life. For some reason, that resonated with him.

Today I understand why. My bathroom is spotless. The dishes are done. The laundry is almost caught up. The floors are swept, the cat litter cleaned, the tables cleared and wiped. And I'd really love for us to sit down with a beer and watch some BSG and bask in a job-well-done glow.

Instead, I get to sit at home by myself (though with some Haagen Dazs Dulce de Leche) and listen to the cats get into trouble. Mr.Q's mother has been taken seriously ill, and he had to fly Home this afternoon, for an undetermined length of time. This sucks. Big time. Fortunately, he has lots of people at Home for support. Fortunately, his mother is in good spirits. Unfortunately, she should be in Calgary to determine just how ill she is...since it's the nearest hospital with the facilities necessary...but there are no beds available at the moment. So. Everybody and everything's on hold, and I'm cleaning the house like a madwoman, trying to find that sense of cosmic order.

I'm not doing too badly, all things considered. I feel good about the clean bathroom. I listened to Blue Rodeo while I worked, and felt a little like I was back in my old, funky bachelor suite from my college days. Good memories. Then I made "Irish comfort food" for supper (potatoes and cheese....mmmm!)

My sister (A.K.A. The Princess Bride) called to see if I wanted to drive down to the States tomorrow to pick up her bridesmaids' dresses. Would be fun - if I could find my birth certificate. Which I couldn't. Though I DID find my Water Safety II certificate from my swimming lessons when I was 8. As well as a "Champion of the Week" certificate from my Grade 5 teacher. I wonder if Homeland Security would consider those to be valid alternatives....