an Ode to the Shirking of Housework

I sat, this morning, on my much under-utilised side verandah, enjoying a steaming cup of coffee and basking in the warmth of the pre-work day sun. The verandah is north-facing, running the side depth of the house and is a glorious spot for contemplation, yet I never make use of it. The barbeque, which sits at one end, is layered with a deep red dust blanket, spiders have squatted in the underside of the chairs and small pockets of cobweb adorn the ceiling and the terrible, gnawing guilt at the state of the place scraped annoyingly against my pleasure, threatening to ruin the moment.
I almost gave in to the shame of my wanton neglect of all things housework, musing for a minute or two on whether I should abandon the cuppa for a broom. I resisted the urge however, relegating the job instead to the to-do list for the day, and deciding to simply enjoy the moment.
Rather, I opted to admire the arachnids' artwork, a glittering veil in the sunlight, strung between chair legs and across leaf blowers, woven with such intricacy that I felt it worthy of my arrogant disregard for the menial job of cleaning them off.
And, after a respectful time at the altar of nature's wonder, I came inside and blogged, thereby beginning my work day with writing. Aaah, the start to a perfect day, the avoidance of house-work, and using it as an excuse to write.
Cheers
Lynn