The Colonel and Major Mom are arriving for a brief visit tomorrow, which explains why I’m up at 10:30pm on a school night, doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, and frantically shoving debris under carpets and seat cushions.
Mt. Beanmore would NOT pass inspection, no matter how avant-garde and bold an artistic statement it was, and so had to be dismantled this evening. I briefly considered, but ultimately discarded, the idea of setting it up on the front porch and letting history record this as my “Andy Warhol” phase.
My lovely home, seriously deficient in both kitchen size and storage space, makes up for it with the several quirky hidey-holes tucked into random corners of the house. So you’ll be happy to know I was able to find homes for ALL of Mt. Beanmore: a couple cans visiting with the breakfast cereal in the wall cupboard in the breakfast room, three more in the pocket-sized pantry in the back hall, and the rest in the bottom drawer of the china cabinet in the dining room, where all good beans belong.
Other people have heirloom silver, china, and linens in their china cupboards.
I have placemats, a backgammon set, a cribbage board, and now, baked beans.
None in the broom closet, which is good, because I think we have mice in there.
Now, go to bed.
I’ll be cleaning.