dirty dishes

Dirty dishes used to make me crazy. I couldn't stand to see even one or two dishes cluttering an otherwise clean sink. I would not go to bed until the kitchen was spotless. 

Today, well, this is what my sink looks like...

The sight of this should bother me. It should compel me to clean. It should hurt my pride to see this mess in MY kitchen. But, the funny thing is ... I. Don't. Care. 

You see, I want to care. I want to WANT to have a sparkling clean kitchen every minute of the day. But instead, the dirty dishes sit ... and sit and sit ... until either we run out of clean spoons OR hubby decides to take over and rid our house of this disgusting mess. (He is REALLY good like that.)

Some might think I've become lazy, or dirty, or despondent. But I think it is something else entirely .... I've become distracted. Distracted by, oh let's see .... the magazines piling up on my coffee table that I'd like to read, the naked toenails that I'd like to paint, the phone call that I'd like to make, the kid that I'd like to tickle, the walk that I'd like to take, the cookies that I'd like to bake, etc., etc., etc.

It's funny how the things that NEED doing look completely different from the things that NEEDED doing a decade ago. Priorities change. Perspectives change. I mean, I still think that having a clean house (and clean dishes) is sooooo awesome .... it's just that pretty toenails and freshly baked sugar cookies are waaaay awesome-er!