Tra la laaaaa
There is a vague, unsettled feeling plaguing me. Unsettled, as in unfinished. School is out, the last hurrah over by noon yesterday. The beginnings of summer plans are formed. Still the feeling lingers.
Oh, yeah. I have to clean my house. That's what's nagging me. Dayum.
I've done 10 loads of laundry yesterday, and will follow up with the rest of the bedding today. In an effort to empty closets and clear floors, I'll be making a big ole donation to the Salvation Army, and passing on mountains of clothing to people with younger kids than mine.
It's like, like, spring cleaning! It's still spring, technically, right? (Hush, naysayers!)
I'm feeling energetic, partly from getting to sleep in 'til 7:30 am this morning, and partly because the hubs is in New York for the week. I think I've mentioned before that I get a weird burst of manic energy when he's out of town, and can accomplish a thousand things, even with the kids underfoot. I miss him, I really do. It's just that when he's home, he likes to relax. And I'll be gosh-darned if HE'S going to relax and I'm going to keep working. So we both relax, and nothing gets finished. Or started. Or whatever.
With his slacker, relaxing hiney on the other side of the country, I find myself contemplating our lack of bathroom decor, and seriously considering rearranging the kids' rooms again. He'd be delighted to have me so industrious when he's at home, but the man just brings out my competitive inner slacker.
Honey, this isn't a sign you should travel more. I'm just sayin'.
My son woke up cranky this morning, having a tantrum or two before 6:30am. Lucky for me, I was still in a fog of sleep, because I pretty much said "Uh-huh, uh-huh, I hear dat. Mmmm. You go, boy!"
Also lucky for me, he was soothed by that, at least temporarily.
Now, he's not so delighted with things. Our TiVo remote is acting up, and sometimes I can get it to behave and sometimes I can't. I suspect someone was teething on it when I wasn't looking. This is worthy of air-siren screams and honest to goodness teeth gnashing. He's gnashing at me, people. What's next? Snarling? Eye-rolling? Breathing fire?
If he starts up with fire breathing, I'm selling him to a sideshow.
Tra la la! At least the girls are still asleep. At 8 am. Wooooo!
I'm going to try not to resent my son's bad mood and this extra hour of sleep that I could've had if I had deflected his ranting with more aplomb. In fact, I'm going to look at this hour as a gift, allowing me to write about his cranky butt, while swilling my weak, sad, pathetic coffee.
This morning, there was only one pod in the bag. No problem, I'll just have a half cup. And then I pushed the button for a two-pod full cup and now, I've got all the water, half the coffee. It is NOT coffee that feels as good as it tastes. And that is just a letdown.