Our Labor Day Weekend has been filled with lazy days.
Truly, we served a main dish of nothing over here, with nothing as a side.
On Friday night, Hubs and I hauled the boy to the local high school football field, where we whooped and cheered our old team on to a blow-out victory. I spent the entire football game talking. And talking. And talking. Because, land sakes! I was surrounded by a pack of girls, and we chattered away like a nest full of birds at sunrise.
Hubs did not chat at the game; Hubs was actually there to watch the game. He knew who had possession of the ball at all times; he knew which down we were on; he knew which kid was playing receiver at all times.
Suffice it to say, I really never knew who had possession of the ball. I really never knew which down we were on. And I only knew that something magnificent had happened because the entire grandstands would burst out in enthusiastic applause, which I happily joined in on.
But SWEET MERCY! Did the girls and I have a good time!
On Saturday, I laid like a slug on my living room sofa and read The Kitchen House. I could hardly put it down, it was so well-written, but goodness! I had to keep taking breaks, because the issue of slavery and I always end up having difficult moments together, so I would read a couple of chapters, and set the book down, and then I’d read a couple more chapters, and set the book down again, just to catch my breath and regroup.
If you want my literary review, I’ll give it to you. This is a fantastically-written book, but it’s the very first book I’ve ever read where I literally had to keep reading forward, just to make sure that everything turned out okay, and I HATE reading ahead. I can’t stand to ruin a book’s ending by surfing forward and seeing what happens, but I had to in this one. I had to get some warnings as to whether Mama Mae and Papa George and Fanny and Lavinia and Beattie survived.
While I was busy reading on Saturday, the boy dashed off to a birthday party, where he participated in a giant water balloon fight that made him grin with pleasure.
Hubs spent most of Saturday napping.
On Sunday, we high-tailed it off to church, only I wasn’t feeling fantastically well. I felt a little flu-ish. Afterwards, we came home, and, amidst the flu-like feelings, I decided to unload a couple of boxes that have been stacked in our garage for a while.
A while that is roughly equal to two years.
We have a little skeleton in our closet over here at the Jedi Manor. It’s the simple fact that our garage looks like an episode of Hoarders Gone Wild.
Even though my stomach was queasy, and my head was spinny, I still managed to lug some boxes of books into the house, and I actually put them into a bookcase.
After all of that work, I decided to spend some more quality time on the sofa, until it was time to meet my friend, Amy, and take some pictures of her girls. Amy is trying to get a jump-start on her annual Christmas card photos. So, the girls twirled and jumped and smiled and said cheese, and then the windstorm hit, and it hit hard, and their hair blew crazily and stuck in their lip gloss, so we had to just call it a wash.
And then, people, I went to bed at precisely 7:34 on Sunday night.
Later, I woke up completely disoriented, and I could not figure out why Hubs had not come to bed, what with it being the middle of the night and all.
The middle of the night turned out to be precisely 8:41. I had been asleep for a solid hour and somehow felt like I’d slept half the night away. No matter. I went right back to sleep.
And listen. When you crawl into bed and call it a night at 7:34, by 3:30 in the morning, your body realizes that it’s had several consecutive hours’ worth of sleep, and hey! It’s ready to just get on up and start the day. I had to argue with my biorhythms and convince myself that it would be okay to go back to sleep until 7:00 AM.
So yes. I got up at 7:00 this morning, and this is what I have done today.
I have read. A different book. A book that is not as wonderful as The Kitchen House. I have played approximately a dozen games of Scrabble Blast on the computer, and I have come nowhere close to achieving my high score. I did venture out of the house to pick up the boy’s buddy, Kellen, so that he could come over and spend the entire afternoon screeching over video games with the boy. I have made (and drank!) a cup of chai tea. I have taken a short nap on the sofa.
The weather has not even been conducive to venturing outside today, as it was a cold and windy 53 degrees today. I told Hubs, “I’m so stinking cold, we may have to turn the heat on.”
Hubs replied by saying, “Not until November.”
And then he spent the entire afternoon soaking in the tub, watching old Star Trek episodes on his new iPad.
It’s because he was cold.
And that, people, was how we spent our weekend.