Sunday, August 26, 2012

A Crooked Mile...

This nursery rhyme ran through my head the other day as I was painting... and painting... and painting (I have spent over $700 in paint in the last three days).
 
There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse.
And they all lived together in a little crooked house.
 
I didn't realize the significance of this rhyme until tonight when I looked it up online (all that kept repeating in my brain, like a cat chasing its tail, was "There was a crooked man...," followed by "crooked house" and "crooked mouse"). When I read the lines together, they sum up my current situation. We bought a crooked house. I couldn't paint a straight line in it if I tried (believe me, I have). We have three crooked cats. I found evidence of a mouse (or mice) previously inhabiting the premises under the refrigerator. And I have definitely walked a crooked mile.
 
Nothing in life is easy. Anything worth having is worth working for. You take the good with the bad. We've all heard these adages before. But they mean something. When my mother used to get upset when I was a kid, I would tell her, "You're not gonna die from it." How simplistic this seems from an adult point of view. But how true it is at the very same time.
 
At this very moment, we are all tucked away underneath of our crooked house in the basement, my eldest daughter and sick husband asleep in the pull-out couch bed, the little one in her pack n' play, and me sitting cross-legged on the floor writing to you. Upstairs is a mine-field.
 
Life is good. Crooked houses have character.
 
 
 
 
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