Perhaps you remember last summer when I wrote a little poem about my grandparents coming to visit, or maybe you haven't been visiting my foothill home that long. Either way, I experienced a major sense of deja vu last Friday when I received a call from my grandma that my grandparents were an hour away from my house and wanted to stop by. My reaction this time was very different. Rather than penning a poem about not wanting to clean my house, I grabbed my camera to take pictures of my house. It was clean... enough.
Sure I had a project sprawled out on the cutting table in the family room.
My knitting and Avery's journals were covering the surface of Great Aunt Soph's steamer trunk turned coffee table in the living room.
The dining room table was covered with various papers and projects; but no worries. My grandparents weren't stopping by to share a meal. They simply wanted to say hello and use the bathroom, which had been bleached twice in the past week in an ongoing attempt to cohabit with a five year old boy.
The dishes were washed, but not put away. They were drying alongside a bouquet of washed ziploc baggies.
Our house looks lived in, which is exactly what my grandma said last summer when she stopped by. It's a style I'm comfortable with, and relatively good at pulling off. So feel free to stop by anytime friends. I'll make you a grilled cheese and pour you a pint.