in my kitchen: 6:44 p.m.

*lazy eaters lingering—reading, not fighting—and with wet hair from their pre-supper showers
*on the stove, a dirty skillet from making the scrambled eggs for our silly supper
*also on stove, the leftover cheesy herb pizza made from a ball of dough that was hanging out in the fridge—in other words, leftovers from leftovers.
*fairly clean counter work space…because I had just put away the mess of fixings for the meatloaf sandwiches (we ate them for lunch and then for supper, too—go, leftovers!)
*extra cups from sampling the fresh goat’s milk—it was delicious.
*a mountain of dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter—it doesn’t look bad but it’s actually quite a pile—waiting for my son to come wash them
*my favorite cooking companion—the under-the-cabinet radio—that wasn’t, thanks to the snow storm knocking out our local NPR station.
*on the counter among the dirty dishes, a clean jar of water for in case the power goes out (it didn’t)
*to the left of the stove, a pile of stuff—a flashlight, the basket of paper napkins, a hat and gloves, a discarded lactose pill wrapper, candles, my husband’s hammer holder. You know, stuff.
*on the dining room table, more stuff—my husband was on a cleaning rampage (go, husband!)
*photobombing chair—the handmade Amish rocker that my parents gave us for our wedding
*freshly-washed votive candle holders on the windowsill, just waiting to create some cozy
*the phone, also on the sill, where I usually place it after calls since I always seem to end up at talking at the sink
*dangling on the window opener doohickey, my younger son’s anti-bullying bracelet that he bought at his cousin’s (not-really) garage sale.