I woke up yesterday with that delightful knowledge that everything was caught up; a free day at hand. The twice-weekly postal delivery that brings my accounting chores was not due for at least one more day and my column wasn’t even close to being late.

            I planned a long walk, followed by a latte from the bakery, a session of getting acquainted with my marvellous new vacuum cleaner, and then a relaxing afternoon working on a drawing course I had just received in the mail.

            My plans went awry the minute my husband, on his way out to work, casually mentioned he had put his jeans in the laundry, just in case I had planned to do a load. I hadn’t, but a wise woman knows that when her husband puts his jeans, not just in the upstairs laundry hamper, but all the way downstairs in the basket beside the washer, it means, “Honey, I would really, really love it if you would do my absolute favourite-in-the-whole-world pair of pants.”

            So, OK, a minor glitch in the day’s agenda. Not a problem. I might as well wash a few other things, including my pyjamas; I would just put on my housecoat, get the laundry going, and then change for my walk. I thought I had better scrounge for any other “favourites” that might be hiding in the upstairs hamper, but remembered to carry the vacuum up with me, ready for later.

            Walking into the laundry room, I experienced the disgusting feeling of scattered kitty litter on bare feet. I got the laundry started and decided I had to get at least part of the vacuuming done before leaving the house.

            This would require at least one more cup of coffee, but with the sun now up, I could see the disaster left from last night’s dinner on the stove top. I reached under the sink for a cleaner and saw a number of wine bottles that needed labels removed. Why don’t I just get these soaking while I clean the stove and do the vacuuming?

            And then, whether due to the convergence of planets or just the vagaries of Canada Post, Jordan popped back in with the “good news” that my work package had arrived a day early. Wasn’t that great?

            No problem; I would put it away and pretend I hadn’t seen it.

            As I’m cleaning the stove top, futilely trying to keep my housecoat sleeves out of the gunk, I look up, way up, and notice the fan filters are filthy. While reading the manual to see how best to clean them, I can’t help notice the section on oven cleaning and recall seeing a can of oven cleaner in the laundry room. I could clean my oven while going for a walk; what an efficient use of time!

             Walking in bare feet through the cat litter again, I am determined to get the vacuuming done if it kills me, but now that I have hauled it upstairs, I might just as well do up there first.

            My new vacuum performed amazingly, at least until it hit a large obstruction under the bed. Turned out it was a pile of suitcases, presumably stored there in case we need to take flight in the night. Deciding to put them in the spare room, I wrestled vacuum and suitcases downstairs, cleaning up the kitty litter and grabbing the oven cleaner on the way. Hey, I was getting somewhere.

            Back in the kitchen, I finished the wine bottles, ready to spray the oven and get out of the house. Except that the sprayer became clogged, and I now had a worse mess. Having just read the manual, I knew that I should remove the oven door for better cleaning access, but I also needed to replace the light bulb to really see what I was up against. In search of a new bulb, I ran into the abandoned suitcases. It would just take a second to stuff them under the guest bed.

            Unfortunately, that space had apparently at one time seemed a perfect spot to store a dozen or more photo albums. Perhaps it was time to find them a proper home; possibly in the living room? And so I began to haul back-breaking stacks to the living room shelves, removing books already stored there which would have to be put…where?...all the while, walking past the awaiting drawing materials I had set out on the coffee table so naively the previous evening.

            Which is why, 3 hours into my “free day,” I found myself in a filthy housecoat, my head inside an oven, homeless books and suitcases cluttering the floor. I never had that second cup of coffee, nor was I successful at pretending I hadn’t seen that package from work arrive. This wasn’t how my day was supposed to go!

            I would like to boast that I just left everything then, dressed and went for a walk and latte, returning to spend what was left of the day sketching in front of the fire, but the reality is that after a short walk, I returned, finished all the incomplete jobs, and then headed to my office to start my work.

            I figure that with everything caught up, tomorrow will be a free day!