I came home late tonight from a meeting at the boys’ school and everyone in the house was asleep except for Natalie, who was wandering around the house by herself. (No comment.) I gave her her medicine and tucked her in, jumped online to renew some library books and shoot off a few overdue emails, switched over a load of laundry, and went back upstairs to see if there was any dinner left. I stared at the pile of dishes in and around my sink. I groaned. This is the conversation that happened in my head:
(Rolling eyes.) I’m too tired.
But if I don’t do it, I’ll start out the day with things already undone.
I put away all the perishable food; that’s good enough.
It still looks like a mess though, and it will only get worse tomorrow when the kids get up. Look how quickly everything went downhill just today.
Sigh. I KNOW, but I really just don’t want to. Oh good, Matt cleared the table.
Man, I’ve got to get on top of this stuff. How can I have the Spirit in the home if I can’t keep it clean?
Let it go. You don’t need the Spirit in the kitchen sink.
So I decided to write a blog post and go to bed instead.
(Despite the color coding, I’m still not absolutely sure which one was the angel and which was the devil. It’s debatable.)