Perfection - Who Cares. It’s the Lemonade that Counts

There was a time when I hated football.  I was a football widow from the get go.  As a sweet young thing I just didn’t understand why I wasn’t the love of Jerry’s life.  His first love was always the Crimson Tide!  But, time passes and now, I LIVE FOR FOOTBALL!  I live for the days that Jerry is content with his first love...a bunch of huge men chasing a small leather ball down a 100 yard field.   Today, Saturday, was game day and  I was going to get to play  “house”.   Why?  I don’t know.  Playing “house” is like trying a new lipstick or buying a new pair of earrings.  It just feels good. Ring.  A dear friend, named “Z” called and said she wanted to give me a day to help...whatever I wanted to do.  Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Jerry finish his breakfast,  I began whining about the cable being out and Jerry not being able to watch Alabama play.  Then, I moved to the dog hair and the dust.  “Why in the world would you expect me to care if your house is clean or not?” she said.   From that, I said “you know what I really want to do?  I want to sand my floors.   I want them to look worn so I won’t have to worry about what they look like.”  She said, “Let’s do it!”

By the time Z came over, Jerry and I had all the furniture moved out onto the deck.  I was pumped! This wasn’t going to be a new was going to be a makeover!   Poor Jerry didn’t understand at all but we knew if we could get him some football he’d be fine.  So we set Jerry up with a radio so he could listen to a game the old fashioned way.

As  Z stood over me watching me sand, she commented, “Oh my.  I just didn’t know how big this floor was!”  What did she think....I was going to sand a 2x2 square or something?”  Here we had this huge floor to do and my sander was the size of a CD.  You know, one of those hand held things. We laughed so hard.   After about 30 minutes of getting nowhere on this floor, our little sanding project slowly began to diminish.  And every time Jerry would come down the stairs, we’d have to stop and give him a hug and remind him of the game he was missing.   Whatever!  I really didn’t care about the floors.  We figured that since the furniture was out on the deck, we’d just go ahead and  clean those floors.  She vacuumed.  I mopped.

Z helped me get all the furniture back inside, helped me throw away my old magazine, rearrange a lamp and nicknack or two.      She put her “creative touch” in the room, then we retired to the deck to put our feet up and talk. Who cares about perfection of my floors?  Who cares about whether a house is perfect or not.  The most important thing is that it’s filled with love and living.   My favorite part was just Z and me...talking and praying about what was on our minds.

After Z left, I went back up to my kitchen where I saw a message waiting on my cell phone.   It was from a  gallery saying “Americana” had left the building.  Yippi!  A painting had sold.  What a way to end a perfect day.