Ironically, I HAVE created a serene oasis in my children's room, and guard it lovingly. I make the bed every morning, and tidy up the floor every night. Every day, they play rambunctiously, jumping on the bed, dumping the costume box, scattering wooden train tracks and little dolls around the floor. Still, I persist in tidying it up through the day; I think it gives me a sense of control over what sometimes feels like an avalanche of mess.
One day in July, I managed to capture it before things went downhill.
This is how I picture my whole house looking: thoughtfully-placed, well-loved objects on tidy display,
artwork properly mounted (this was one of my masterpieces from childhood),
artfully draped quilts,
and lovely objets d'arts (or crafts, or old Chinese checker boards) placed just so.
Horizontal surfaces are not dumping grounds for papers and detritus of all sorts, but important display areas.
Ah, an oasis. I think the other word for an oasis is a mirage. Look, quickly, for it will be gone in a blink of the eye.
A girl can dream, though, can't she?