The Sons are home for Easter break and that means that at some point (right about the time the car dealership plucks my last nerve and I become convinced my latest publication is not actually going to pay me and I realize someone has recommended me for a job I'd love but not yet, not yet, maybe in 15 months, but of course it will not wait for me) I come close to losing it on The State of the House.
You know how it is--I am the Mom, which to those of us giving birth sounds like "nurturer" but to the rest of the family sounds more like "char woman".
I think the Sons saw That Look in my eye. The one Jack Nicholson had as he wielded a baseball bat on the stairs of the Overlook Hotel. So they kinda cleaned the den, kinda cleaned their bedrooms, and Son #1 even washed an entire load of dishes so that I could scrub the kitchen w/bleach. It is now sparkly-clean and fresh.
The car dealership must have heard it in my voice, on the phone, when I woke up this morning to discover a completely flat tire...a tire I had just paid nearly $200 for, yesterday. So I got my loaner back, which still looks like a clown car, but it will get me to my meeting tomorrow, unlike the Spare Car, which has a battery completely devoid of life.
The universe itself must have sensed it, as I contemplated calling a certain magazine AGAIN to ask where my check was...because said check arrived in the mail today, and minutes later I got a phone call offering me another gig, one I take on each year but still don't feel is guaranteed to me.
So, now, the house is pretty close to clean, I have at least the impression of money coming in and future work, my car is in the shop where THEY WILL FIX THE GAUGE THEY BROKE, OH YES THEY WILL, and it's 7:15 and the sun is only starting to set, and it is lovely. Stripey, blue and white and orange.
Tomorrow is a busy one, but tonight I can grab a few last things at Wal-Mart and maybe paint my toenails before Hubby gets home.
Aaaahhhhh.
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3 comments:
I think there is something in a man's genetics that prevents him from being able to see dust on any item. In our house, cleaning conversations go like this...
"I cleaned the living room."
"Did you dust it?"
"Yep."
"Before or after you vacuumed?"
"Before."
"OK.... wait. Did you say you dusted in here?"
"Yeah I dusted."
"Where?"
I shouldn't complain though because if I put him in the kitchen, it's sparkling in seconds. I can't seem to wrap my head around the mess of food and dishes sometimes. I think it's how I'm wired.
Anyway, hang in there! Have a great weekend... and Easter!
Does you life with men include large things being put into small trash cans? I only live with one man but he it's like he sees the small garbage can in the bathroom and then tries to fill it with a single item. I often ask him who he thinks empties the trash cans when they're full. His response is a blank stare.
Congrats on not melting down. That totally seemed like a meltdown scenario.
Well, Lola, I am grateful for that male inability to see dust. Because I KNOW none of them are going to dust, at least this way they won't notice right away if I skip it, myself. Happy Easter to you, too!
ALF- Yeah, what is the deal with that? And I get that same blank stare when I mention that anyone.in.the.house.is surely capable of using a trash can, laundry hamper, or dishwasher. "Huh? Wait--What?"
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