Mud (noun): soft sticky matter resulting from the mixing of earth and water.
I'm so pleased to see that now we are in March the sun has chosen to make an appearance but, whilst the sky is a lovely spring blue, the ground all around us is a constant brown. In the Little House we seem to be surrounded by a sea of mud. In trying to get from car to doorway, avoiding a mud bath, it is necessary to to leap and hop from gravel patch to rock eventually landing on Little House island.
The short definition above neglects to inform about the dried variety - you know, the type of mud that dries in little Hansel and Gretel trails all over the house and adheres itself into dried clumps in carpet, dog coat and on the soles of your shoes. This variety is inside almost every room of our house even the bathroom. The mud clings to us, comes into school and work with us. We are under siege!
|A dog of two halves; top half white, bottom half brown|
You will know from other posts (and polite friends and family know but do not speak of) that I am not the best of house keepers. Our home is a constant muddle of pen tops, lost socks and piles of stuff. But I do try to keep some kind of basic level of cleanliness, at least so that it is possible to see the original colour of the carpet and floors. We do possess a vacuum cleaner and it does make a regular appearance but the repetitive nature of hoovering bores me senseless and drives me to eat cake.
Last weekend I had what my children describe as a 'mummy meltdown' about the state of the kitchen and - you've guessed it - the mud! The Wonderful Man came over all wonderful and went off into the barn to create a solution (not to my life's problems in general you understand, even he is not as wonderful as all that!) but to the problem of mud infiltrating the kitchen and the extensive range of welly boots we have nowhere to practically store. All hail the new boot rack! What do you think? I'm hoping that any rain will help clean them off without making the insides wet and, by being off the ground, the cat will not be able to leave dead mouse presents inside them (I still cannot bring myself to talk about that experience).
When I posted the picture on facebook (as you do) a friend commented that it looked as though the occupants of the Little House had all been embedded into the brick harling of the house with just their feet sticking out.
The Wonderful Practical Man is now on a mission and designing a boot brush - wonders never cease. I do hope it's not planned as a Mother's Day gift from the girls though. I know 'mummy meltdowns' can be quite frequent occurrences around here but I've found coffee in bed and completely lovely and totally impractical gifts do much to keep them abated. Under the duvet is a good place to be; I can't see the hoover from here and our bedroom has remained miraculously free of any specks of mud (though the same cannot be said of cake crumbs).