Even Those of Wizarding Status Still Clean Their Own Houses

It poured rain here this morning. Buckets of water were dumped from the heavens, and Amy decided that — what the heck! — she really would go ahead and have her birthday anyway.

So, amidst the torrential downpour, I met her at Starbucks this morning for the fastest birthday coffee known to mankind, because she had to scoot off to help in her little girl’s classroom, and I had to head home to engage myself in some serious house cleaning.

Regan showed up at Starbucks and joined our hurry-up-and-guzzle-it coffee party this morning, too. Everyone needs to have a good friend like Regs, because Regs will make you laugh until you simply want to lay on the floor of Starbucks and slap your thighs and gasp for breath.

Regan, you see, put her back out last weekend. While she was vacuuming the third seat of her Suburban. At the car wash. At 6:00 on a Saturday morning. Why was Regs engaged in such a chore at that time of the day? Who knows? But seriously, I cannot do her story justice, and so I won’t even attempt it. Suffice it to say that I laughed like a pack of hyenas and that my ab muscles still ache.

After we had literally inhaled our drinks faster than is acceptable and burned all of our taste buds plum off our tongues, the three of us split up and went our separate ways.

I went home to scour and scrub like Cinderella hopped up on a double dose of Ritalin. It’s how I spent my entire day.

And the really great part about finding out that your bottle of mopping solution, which you keep beneath the kitchen sink, had tipped over while the cap was flipped open and somehow managed to warp the bottom of the cabinet quite severely? Well, the Queen of England herself could now open the door beneath my kitchen sink and smile with pleasure over how neat and tidy (and warped) it is. I found myself quickly texting Cody this morning to inform her of my warped cabinet, and how Hubs was going to be sorely disappointed.

Our texting went along these lines:

“Can you see the warping badly?”

“Not if you shut the cabinet door. And my cabinet is genuinely clean and organized now! Yay!”

“Well, it’s always good to find the silver lining in every situation.”

“Yes, Hubs will do angry backflips when he finds out. Thankfully, he never gets under the kitchen sink, because why on earth would he need any cleaning supplies?”

“The only place that would have been better for this accident to happen would have been in your laundry room!”

Because we all know how many times Hubs finds himself in THAT room of our house.

Dear Hubs,
Yes, the bottle of mop solution tipped over in the cabinet beneath our kitchen sink. Yes, the lid was flipped open when this happened. Yes, there was some rather serious spillage. Yes, the cabinet is a bit warped inside now. Goodness knows how long the liquid sat there! Days, I imagine. Yes, we can be fairly certain of who left the lid flipped open on the bottle of mop solution. It would more than likely be the one person in our family who actually mops. Yes, I suspect that you’ll be rather growly to discover that one of our brand new cabinets is no longer perfect, but we can successfully hide it from company, because all we have to do is keep the cabinet door shut, which we do anyway. And, before your growliness begins over this issue, please keep this in mind: The person who is obviously responsible for leaving the lid on the bottle open is also your cook, your maid, your gardener and your laundress. She would also be the one who gave birth to your one and only child, without appropriate amounts of anesthetic during her C-section, which still traumatizes her from time to time.
Sincerely,
Jedi Mama

There. I think that should do it.

Also, after scrubbing my fingers to the bone today and not being rewarded with a Fairy Godmother and a pair of crystal-studded Manolo Blahnik alligator boots to wear to the ball, I brought these two street urchins home from school.


I love these two boys dearly, but I was not at all above sending them to the mountainous regions to live off the land, completely by themselves and unchaperoned, if they stomped through my house with their wet and muddy shoes. They actually wanted to live off the land by themselves. Ben agreed to do the hunting, while the boy said he’d take charge of building themselves a shelter. Crazy kids. It’s always my luck to have my discipline techniques backfire.

And, in case anyone cares, look what happened on Saturday night! I played one game. ONE! And I spelled words like crazy! And I think we can all agree that it was only a matter of time before I ranked as a Wizard and broke 4,300 points. I actually wanted to celebrate this major accomplishment, and when I mentioned doing that to Hubs, he said (from his spot on the sofa in front of his big screen TV), “Don’t expect me to get up! You’ve had me out running errands and hitting antique stores all day, and I refuse to budge. But if you’d like to celebrate your victory by watching a hockey game with me, you’re more than welcome to join me downstairs.”


It wasn’t exactly the praise I was hoping for. I mean, really. Attaining the Wizarding Level is akin to actually having the Fairy Godmother show up in your kitchen after you’ve scrubbed it from top to bottom.

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