i hate sweeping. like hate it. so much in fact, that i'd rather go into my closet, lug out my awkwardly huge vacuum, plug it in and vacuum the floor than pick up a broom. weird, i know. but i can't handle the frustration that comes with trying to get that last line of dirt up on the dustpan successfully. you know what i'm talking about; it happens to the best of us.
ashamedly, i've been known to sweep that line of dirt under the rug [or the fridge and stove for that matter] when no one's looking. [for those of you who have had their house clean by yours truly, consider this your aPAULAgy].
but what i've come to realize on moving day, if not sooner, is that, even though some may never know 'what lays underneath my rug', the dirt's still ... there.
as i'm about to embark on a new chapter in my life, i've been challenged to really take a look at myself lately; to face, and work on, the unhealthy things that consume me, control me, and some days even haunt me. i'm ready to sweep up the dirt if you will; the dirt that has been piled up under the rug for far too long and the dirt that i sadly even collected today.
goodbye, awkward vacuum. hello, broom!