Clearly, the only way to recover from a weekend of cleaning the garage is to start with a nighttime shower, wash the bug (singular) out of your hair, freak out a little in the shower because you actually had a little black, ladybug-like CREATURE crawling around in your disheveled and dirty mane, scrub your hair a second time to insure that all the insects were not only clean, but rinsed down the drain, get a good night’s sleep, and then spend all of Monday scouring the Jedi Manor.
Yes. Let’s go there. It was roughly the size of a ladybug and looked EXACTLY LIKE a ladybug, only it was black. And also spot-free. And he (she?) seemed quite surprised to find himself in a shower, which involved a whole lot of water and an even greater amount of Biolage shampoo. I am guessing that he felt little pain after I danced around to dislodge him from my finger and made little screeching noises, and then used my big toe to scootch him in the general direction of the floor drain. In my defense, I HAD just spent an entire weekend cleaning a garage, and I HAD just made two trips to the local landfill.
It could have happened to anyone.
And the good night’s sleep?
Oh, yes! Hubs and the boy were both completely passed out cold and snoring when I crawled into bed at 9:00 last night, with a head of bug-free and sopping wet hair, and I immediately followed suit. And then, I don’t know whether y’all know what a chair being blown by a ferocious gust of wind across your deck sounds like as it slams into the siding on your house, but here’s my breakdown of it: It sounds a whole lot like a 400-pound Yeti stomping across your threshold, and when that happens at 12:54 in the AM, it sort of causes your heart to stop a little and your mentally-deficient Cat 2 to panic and run for the safety of the basement. Even Hubs, who can sleep through most anything, sat upright in bed and groggily looked around to see whether or not he’d need to get out of bed and fight something.
With the adrenaline starting to calm down, I made a quick middle-of-the-night trip to the ladies’ room (since Cat 2 was already awake and hiding in the basement), and that’s when I heard the freight train. I’ve never been in a tornado before, but goodness! I’ve always been told that they sound like a steam engine barreling down on your house, and THAT is exactly what I heard. And because it wasn’t even quite 1:00 in the morning, I was a bit disoriented and started to panic, because I did NOT want to be caught in the ladies’ room when the F-5 slammed into our house and blew us straight out of Kansas.
And then, quite suddenly, the train noises receded, and I realized that a rather large truck had simply been passing by on the not-so-far-away avenue near our house.
So then I went back to bed and had a dream that I worked for an advertising agency, and I was using very wild wolves to film a commercial for an insurance company who had hired me, only the COMPETING insurance company had hired another ad exec to film THEIR commercial using wild German Shepherd dogs, and they had plum stolen my idea for a winning ad campaign. And then, the wild German Shepherds got out, and they were chasing me ’round and ’round the mulberry bush (or maybe it was just through an open field), and I was trying to release MY very wild wolves to take them on, only I couldn’t get to the wolf pen to flip the gate, and then low!
The alarm went off, and it was morning, and I’d already gotten my workout in, after sprinting from the dogs and their vicious snarls.
Hubs insists that I just need to calm down in the evenings and think happy thoughts, because my dream life is a bit unstable.
I didn’t even tell him that LAST WEEK I had a dream that our friends Amy and PH plum sawed their house in two, so that they had TWO PIECES of a house which looked exactly like a dollhouse. The front looked great, and the back was completely open, revealing the room layout and all the furniture. Two giant dollhouses — that’s what their house had become. When I asked Amy why she and PH had done this to their new home, she told me, “Because sweeping it is SO MUCH EASIER now! I just sweep all the dust to the edge of the house, and then I hurl it all outside! It has revolutionized my life!”
And then I asked her the million dollar question. “Well, does your house ever get drafty now?”
I blame it all on the nightly Zyrtec.
So yes — I DID scour the Jedi Manor down today. After dropping the boy off at school, I came home and found Kenny Loggins on the iPod, because nothing screams out, “Clean it, Sister!” like the Top Gun soundtrack.
And then! I plopped some chunks of oatmeal cookie-scented wax into my two Scentsy pots, and my entire house smelled like Mrs. Fields lived here. My darling friend, Amber, stopped by this morning, and she remarked, “Oh my word! Are you baking cookies?”
Apparently Amber has a ways to go in learning all there is to know about me, because the only cookies that we have around here come from one of three places: John and Ruthie T., who take very good care of us and send cookies our way on a fairly regular basis; our sweet neighbor, Cyndi, who does the same thing and who just delivered an entire plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies on Saturday, which the boy proceeded to dump on the garage floor when he tripped over the stairs; and the Oreo package. Sadly, cookies simply DO NOT come out of the oven here at the Jedi Manor, no matter how much Hubs and the boy wish differently. But let me tell you, if a hunk of Scentsy wax can make things smell like I’ve baked all day, then bring it on.
I wonder if Scentsy has a roast-and-potato scent, so that Hubs would think I’d actually done something about dinner?
The other big news for the day is simply this:
The cuckoo clock is back in business, and Cats 1 and 2 are a bit overwhelmed with it.
Cats 1 and 2 (who Hubs and I have decided need to be renamed, as the hellcat can now be referred to as the Grim Reaper, while the nocturnal bird brain is known as Mayhem), are INDOOR CATS. They are such indoor kitties, the pads on their little feet are soft and callous-free and resemble a baby’s pink cheeks. Although they are not exposed to the elements outside, Grim and Mayhem sit in our windows and watch the birds flutter hither and yon like they are parked in front of Pay-Per-View on the big screen. Occasionally, the Cat Beasts even feel the need to communicate with the birds outside, and they do the little kitty chatter that makes me giggle every single time I hear it.
Hubs and I suspect that they’re saying, “If I wasn’t an indoor cat, I’d come over there and pummel you!”
The cats at the Jedi Manor are VERY IN TUNE WITH the wildlife outside, and keeping our nasty Grim Reaper inside insures that the neighborhood is safe and that small pets will live to see another day.
On Saturday, the boy rediscovered his cuckoo clock, which Hubs’ parents gave to him for his 6th birthday, tucked away in a box.
Imagine that! A BOX in our garage! A box that hadn’t been unpacked for the two and a half years that we’ve lived here! (Shh! Don’t tell Hoarders! Things are under control out there in that garage now!)
The boy was PLUM ELATED to find his clock, and it was immediately smacked up on his bedroom wall. Every single hour, on the hour, the little bird emerges to chirp out the time for all the world to hear, and Cats 1 and 2 have gone plum nuts, because THERE IS A BIRD IN THIS VERY HOUSE!!
At noon today, when the bird sang for what seemed forever, I had the Grim Reaper and Mayhem pacing like caged beasts around the boy’s bedroom, fretting over which one of them was going to be the first to find a way to climb the wall and attack the wooden sparrow to the death.
And for some reason, seeing the cats have some major anxiety like this brings an evil bit of joy to my heart!
Happy Monday night, people.