Day two of summer holidays, and I still feel like absolute crap. Between the raging chest cold and the fact that I was home only to sleep during the last few days of school, my poor kitchen is a sad state of affairs.

I could pretend to be perky and healthy, and post only perfect photos of my little home. I could, if I really wanted to, photoshop the heck out of stuff and present my life as a glossy, polished dream.

I’m not that kind of blogger, though. I’m going to tell it how it is, and show you the rubble.

My bathroom renovation is still underway, hence the tube of Aquafresh and the contact lens solution. It looks like The Electrician finished his bucket of yum from Marble Slab, too. The roses are left over from our graduation banquet, and the decorator insisted that I take them home, despite my argument that the dyed blue roses (students’ pick) were a little too Grad ’87 for me.

I am completely out of plates and forks, as evidenced by the dark blue monkey plate, smeared with barbeque sauce and left on the counter.

I love the monkey plate, as hideous as it is. My mom gave it to me years ago; it was the base of some sort of gift basket thing she’d won, and she hated it. The monkeys and their trees are raised on the plate, and the whole thing weighs about four pounds. Usually, the monkey plate stays in the cupboard, under all the Fiestaware, and only sees the light of day if I’m taking squares or something to a friend. No one keeps this plate and it always finds its way back to me very quickly. Last night, it was the last clean dish in the house so it was invited to dinner.

The curtains are looped up because I like the natural light in the kitchen, although I am reluctant to take them down entirely because I need something to quickly block the summer sun out of the kitchen so I don’t roast alive while cooking. Yes, the plant in the hanging basket is dead, and I didn’t realize it until after I uploaded the photo. I have trouble keeping up with things that are out of my eyeline.

There’s recycling that needs to go out in a blue bag, including the empty pasta sauce jar, and some tinfoil from last night’s baked potatoes. I definitely need to start the dishes, as soon as I finish procrastinating writing for Blue Speckled Pup.

I guarantee my mom is going to hassle me about airing my dirty dishes on the internet. It’s okay, Momma. Out there in the blogiverse, folks have fallen behind on their housekeeping too, and if posting photos of my kitchen gone wild helps even one person to feel a bit better about herself, my day’s work is complete.

You’re welcome!

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