Do you want payment for cleaning your house? No, I don't mean paying someone else to do it. This week, I've been preparing for a large group of ladies at my house for ministry training by Marguerite. Fifteen ladies became a definite incentive to clean places not touched by human hands in several years. My cleaning list included a hunt for cobwebs and cleaning windows with the magic, tacky rags I recommended recently.
I'll tell you a secret. (Men, don't read this paragraph.) My favorite husband doesn't carry a coin purse (purse?); so, he lays lose change all over the house wherever he takes off his pants. Years ago, I began claiming this money as my special fee for cleaning up after my dear husband. It's low wages, but stealing it makes me feel good and he never misses it. If you multiplied the weekly heist, I'd be rich after these forty-eight years together. I also keep the 'clean' money found in the washing machine.
One special place I needed to dust was this library. Several ladies acted excited to see where I sit and write my letters to you. I wonder if they got the same thrill as people do visiting Robert Louis Stevenson's home in Samoa? You must know I'm teasing. But I really have been to Samoa, another ministry trip many years ago. I took my tennis racket with me, but it was too hot to play on that South Pacific island.
We don't need the sun to make sun tea. I proved it this weekend. If I'm not careful, I'll be sounding like “Hints from Heloise”. Please forgive me.
You know the Oregon State beaver, but have you met the OSU catapiller? Harold doesn't know what this feller becomes. Do you?
Thanks for joining me in my tidy library this week. Can you stay for another cup of hot tea?