Sunday, September 6, 2009
I miss the lazy Sundays we used to have wherein I basked in the gleaming cleanliness of our house, and we all lay around (well, my limit for sitting is like two seconds but still) and do unspecified versions of not much.
Cut to the kids having these insane lives, packed with sports, sleepovers (ack, very hard for this mama to let the kids go), canoeing, and all sorts of things that render me here solo. Suddenly the clean house is of no consolation and my mind becomes a barren wasteland of ideas. Now, just as I'm happily ensconced in my book, or organizing some random cabinet that whispered my name, Todd suddenly announces he's taking the kids away. I am, as ever, grateful for his involvement in their lives, but Jesus, I hate this new Sunday prison ritual. Now, you'd think I'd simply call a friend and make a plan but I can't. I decline all offers to play, for fear that doing so will cement the reality that I can't be alone here.
So Sundays suck like a motherfucker, but here is what I'll be doing, since I am proud to report I got all my tasks completed yesterday and then some.
-Wash the new clothes the kids got.
-Give the kids a quick tour of the house and remind them how to do their chores.
-Organize my cds.
-Burn cds for Debe.
-Wipe down door knobs.
-Wash shower liner.
-Outwit Quinn's fucking iPod, which will not let him delete songs--AAAARRRRGGGHHH!
-Organize side table by computer that has become a site for stuffing and other unacceptable means of putting things away.
-Clean keyboard of errant Ramen.
-Stop eating Ramen and all food.
-Cherish my last two canisters of Kirland wipes. Hold a memorial service.
-Wipe down fans and lamps.
-Clean out refrigerator.
God willing, you will do this:
-Kick some basic ass.
-Pick one drawer to organize. Really.
-Pick one cupboard to organize. Really Really.
-Clean out refrigerator. Rid the top of invaders.
-Tidy up living room.
-Cursory wipe down of the toilets.
Now come over.