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Got My Going Britches On

My granny use to say to me, “Girl, you’ve got your going britches on!” Seems I was constantly begging to GO somewhere. I wanted to move, to go, or to do…something. Anything. I was never satisfied to just BE.

Many years later, (like I’m gonna tell my age?) I’m still that way. My house and my yard show it. And then some.

As a result of my gypsy spirit, I’m domestically challenged. Okay, big, fat lie. I’m not challenged, I just hate housework. There’s a difference. Here you have a person with a one track mind; to go and to do—something, anything …as long as it doesn’t involve a dust buster, or detergent, or that other big red thing sitting outside on my carport. It has a motor in it (somewhere), and men love them, name them, and buy big ones with headlights and drink holders and stuff. Why don’t they just call them lawncars instead of mowers? I want a goat.

There comes a time, however, that even I have to admit the neglect has gone too far. Like this morning when I tripped over the dust on my way to the bathroom. Or when Search and Rescue had to help find my dog in the backyard. He handed me my pooch and patted me on back saying, “Its sokay ma’am, we see a lot of cases of lawnmoweritis. I will say you got yourself a pretty bad case of it, though.” Oh, so now he’s a doctor?

The next day I decided I’d put things off long enough. Psyching myself up, I ran around the living room for a sec, did a few knee bends (sitting down, of course), and then told myself I was ready. I said to the air, “Today…I’m going in. I’m ready…I’m pumped. I’m going to tackle the kitchen, the living room, and that other room where the door is shut. Oh cool! I have a guest bedroom! Who knew? Then tomorrow, I’ll tackle that green stuff outside!”

I slipped on a pair of work gloves and to complete the ensemble, my favorite apron, a gift from the bank that says, “Are you LOANsome tonight?” You have to love their sense of ElvisNESS. I gathered up my broom, my mop, and my pail. All systems were on GO. Houston, we have blast-off! …I am woman hear me roarrrr, in—Ringgggggg…

“Hey! Oh, (heavy sigh) I’m just cleaning house. You know me, always doing something around the Ponderosa! Clean is my middle name. Just call me Susie Homemak—I do NOT lie! Take that bac—what? A new bookstore? Today? Uh, well—I really need to… They’re serving FREE coffee and pie? PIE? Nano-pause … Just let me get my ‘going britches’ on.”

Georgia Richardson Author, Speaker, Southern Humorist
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