mess

I am a mess-maker of note.
When I get stuck into a project there are pieces of that project all around the house.
My problem is that I am a better mess-maker than I am a mess-cleaner.

Grampa was a firm believer in cleaning up messes, especially, but not only, one’s own.
Quite often, when Grampa was in the middle of something, he would clean as he went,
so by the time he got to the end of whatever it was he was doing, there was relatively little to put away.

I remember walking with him one day down Trestle Glen Road to the mailbox.  What seemed like miles to me then, I realise now in adulthood was actually half a kilometre.  As we walked we talked about school, friends, future.  I noticed Grampa would stop and bend down every few paces or so.  Grampa was busy picking up rubbish.  Whenever we reached a bin Grampa would make a large deposit.

Grampa, I’ve concluded, not only cleaned up his own messes, but also cleaned up the messes of others.

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