Well… we are knee-deep in summer vacation. Thing 2 asked me the other day, “Is it Saturday today?” I told him that it wasn’t; it was Tuesday. He replied, “Well, it FEELS like Saturday!” And I guess that sums up our lives at the moment: Every day feels like Saturday, which is really the entire goal of summer break, right?
On the day that I checked out of my PE classes… after having filled out the appropriate checklist of DID YOU CLOSE ALL THE WINDOWS? DID YOU FILL OUT A REQUISITION FORM FOR NEEDED SUPPLIES IN THE FALL? DID YOU MAKE A NOTE FOR MAINTENANCE ON REPAIRS OR WORK THAT NEEDS DONE IN YOUR CLASSROOM? and turned it in to our principal… I walked out of the school with a light heart and thought, “This will be the summer when I get all kinds of stuff done at home.” Oh, I had a mental list going, too. Closets! The closets need cleaned. Actually, the closets at our house needed gutted, fumigated, and reorganized, if you want to know the real truth. I have a cabinet that Hubs built for me years ago that needs painted. I have a pantry that needs spiced up with some form of organization that we can stick to and not abandon two weeks after we clean it out. I have GOBS of boxes and bags of hand-me-down clothes for Thing 2, which need to be sorted through, into piles of IT FITS NOW and IT WILL FIT NEXT YEAR. I have toy boxes that need lit on fire and burned to the ground, because I am not passionate about 3.2 million toys that sit, completely unused, in them, hogging precious real estate in the little man’s bedroom. So yes. I walked out of my last PE class on June 1st and thought, “After our staff party to celebrate summer, I am going to become a machine that sorts out my house.” I guess you could say this was going to be the summer that I got my affairs in order.
And here I am, two full weeks later, with nary a single thing checked off my list except that one line item that reads TAKE THING 2 TO THE PARK.
So THAT’S happening around here.
And what else is going on at the Jedi Manor? Not a lot.
Hubs and I did put apps on our phones that actually track the exact amount of time we spend on them each day, because we had each accused the other of being glued to an iPhone screen too long. We made a bet with prizes for the winner, to see who uses their phone less in June. I feel like I pick my phone up constantly, to fill every down minute of the day, and I’m horrified about it. My 1988 self is also shocked, because GO TEASE YOUR BANGS SOME MORE INSTEAD OF OPENING FACEBOOK AGAIN… but also my 1988 self is a little impressed, because she always knew her future self would have a phone like Jane Jetson did. Anyway. We have had this app on our phones for an entire week now, and I beat Hubs five out of seven days for the least amount of screen time. I made a giant point of declaring myself the WEEKLY WINNER OF THE CHICKEN DINNER last night, when Hubs explained, “I use my phone for work, you know.”
I looked at Hubs and said, “I also use my phone for work, and look! I logged in thirty-three minutes on it today, and you logged in an hour and forty-nine minutes.”
Hubs looked at me with his eyebrows raised and said, “You’re using your phone for work, too?”
Because it’s apparent that Hubs has hard feelings about summer vacation, but all I have to say is this: He could have chosen to go into education as a career choice in college, too, for the payoff of JUNE, JULY and also AUGUST. I told Hubs, “Yes. I ALSO use my phone for work. Just today, I had to text the boy to see if he needed me to bring him some lunch while he was working at the golf course, and I also had to Google MY PACKAGE OF BONELESS CHICKEN BREASTS IS TWO DAYS PAST THE SELL-BY DATE, before I just went with my gut instinct and threw it out, to the tune of $9 in the garbage.”
Hubs said, “Well, I made real calls to real clients and fixed someone’s computer… FROM MY OFFICE, WITH MY PHONE.”
Blah, blah, blah.
In other news, the boy is working approximately fifty hours a week right now at the golf course, and then he golfs eighteen holes when he gets off work, so that translates into WE NEVER SEE HIM. I know he still lives here, because he leaves wet towels on his bathroom floor, and he occasionally texts me to see if I could please wash his work polos.
Thing 2 has been at Vacation Bible School all this week, with nine million other children. I was so excited to send him, because I basically had from 9 AM to noon each day this week to KNOCK OUT MY LIST OF CHORES. What has ended up happening, though, is that I’ve come back home after the VBS drop-off… and heard all the utter SILENCE.
So I knocked out a John Grisham novel this week, which has been sitting in my bookcase, unread, for two years. Apparently, this was the week where I expanded my brain’s capacity for knowledge by reading, and I do feel decently qualified to be a full-fledged lawyer at the moment, after reading up on a fictional attorney. Call me, if you need any legal needs met.
And… I have knocked out the Mount Everest of Laundry this week, AND I power washed our front and back patios, the driveway AND the deck, which… let’s face it: If nothing else gets done in June, there was at least that week when all the laundry was caught up and the outside areas were scrubbed clean for one day, before the cotton started flying again.
(Also? In case you’re wondering… Hell is going to be covered in cotton that has flown off of trees. It is going to stick to everything in Hell, and make your life as miserable as it can be here on Earth, when you have a six-year-old who leaves the door open for all the cotton to blow right in every day. So… you’d better get yourselves right with Jesus, so you can spend eternity without ever knowing the pain of inhaling an airborne bit of cotton fluff straight up your nose. Hubs and the boy cannot breathe right now, and their eyes are swollen and red, because COTTON ALLERGIES. I missed out on seasonal allergies altogether, which I feel like I shouldn’t actually brag about, but I fight my own battle with cotton all over my hardwood floors, and cotton that has gotten wet from the sprinklers in my flower beds. Now THAT is messier than a nose that’s stuffed shut.)
Plus, I paid someone real American dollars to come in and wash all of my windows, because I felt like this was a good use of my money. Professional window washer have all the right tools, and they can knock out a job in forty-five minutes that would have taken me all the livelong day long and cut into my reading time. (You know… since I am currently trying to beat Hubs by never using my phone.) At this very moment, my windows are so clean, they look like they’re not even there, which means I have a completely UNOBSTRUCTED VIEW OF ALL THE COTTON SAILING THROUGH OUR NEIGHBORHOOD.
God bless the cotton-filled cottonwoods, but it’s okay if He wants to strike a few with lightning bolts this month.
And… this is my baby this week, looking like he’s ready for college, instead of just the first grade.
I think that all the chores will get underway next week… unless I decide another book is calling my name.
Happy summer weekend, y’all.