Colour coordination pleases me

I've been trying to explore where all my endless guilt about all my imperfections comes from, but despite this I went to bed fretting about my grubby kitchen floor (and all the rest of the house too)...

Does irregular floor cleaning make me less of a woman? Why does an imperfect house make me feel like such a failure as a grown-up, when actually I am too busy doing interesting things with my life to get round to making things spotless? Do men feel this pressure?

So I knew when I went to bed last night what my image for today would be, in fact I nearly got out of bed at 1am to take the picture of my floor, but I decided I wanted natural light.

This morning after the usual overtired staggering around for a while I got my camera out and took this picture. As well as the bits on the floor, I noted that my nail polish is chipped and needs to be redone, but it's the same colour as the dried up bit of spring onion (from stir fry last week) and you know what, it pleased me.

Then I did the pile of washing up, put on my vintage forties suit with matching lipstick and went out the door to a meeting. And I knew what I was talking about.