On a Sunday afternoon:














40 minutes well spent*. Thanks, Pancake.
*yes my leg fell dead asleep.
On a Sunday afternoon:
40 minutes well spent*. Thanks, Pancake.
*yes my leg fell dead asleep.
This may look like an ordinary photo – but look closely.
Can you see ALL the dirty dishes I used to make baked spaghetti last night, the wrecked stove top and counter top, or the piles of recycling I wasn’t able to take down because of the rain? Nope. Neither can I.
There are few things better than coming home after a hard day to an already cleaned house. Especially when you made 99% of the messes. Oh, and delicious treats left for you on the counter – not bad.
Cleaning up without asking and leaving treats you’ve been talking about all week are little things, and I believe in the little things. A random sweet message via text. A surprise treat at the end of a bad day. A un-prompted back scratch. A handwritten note. Remembering to serve ice cream with a little spoon, because they don’t like the big spoons with ice cream. Tucking in the bed sheets because you know they love it. A simple “I’m sorry” after a misunderstanding. Hell, the fact that I can even bring it up when my feelings are hurt is a little thing that I think is the biggest thing.
I live for these sweet gestures. Faults and cracks in the little things have been my downfall in the past. And now they just make me grateful to be where I am, and who I’m with. I came home wanting to eat my feelings. Now I’m gushing about love.
It’s the little things.
me: Do you want to come downstairs with me and get the sheets off the line?
Joel: Nope.
me: Oh, you never want to go anywhere with me.
Joel: No, I like going places with you. I just don’t want to do chores.
me: But I like doing chores.
Joel: I know, and I buy you The Simpsons. It’s an even trade.
it’s like he gets me.