I had enormous plans today to clean the house, but the first thing on my to-do list was to go through our closet. It’s because our walk-in closet looks like an unorganized thrift store that the packrats have nested in.
Yes, I had set myself some goals, because having goals is always a good thing.
Achieving your goals is also a good thing, but sometimes I get distracted from THAT part of the goal-setting.
I think it’s because Amy texted me at 8:30 this morning and said, “Come with me. Let’s get pedicures this morning.”
I had cleaning and organizing goals. “No,” I texted. “I have domestic goals on my list today.” I put up a force of resistance.
Ten minutes later, I saw this on my phone: “Honey, throw the cleaning day under the bus! Please! Let’s do pedicures!”
And I caved, people. I caved. I told Amy to give me fifteen minutes. I shaved my legs in that time, because I looked like Sasquatch. I changed out of my house-cleaning outfit, which involved a college T-shirt with holes in it. I added lip gloss and deodorant to myself.
And we went for pedicures.
And that pretty much set the tone for the entire day. With my toes looking all fancy an hour and a half later, Amy and I went shoe shopping, and it was my lucky day, because oh my word! I found me some attractive footwear suited for a princess. Or even a rodeo queen. And certainly for Miss America.
By the time Amy and I went our separate ways, Hubs was aware of the financial damage that I had done to him in the salon and the shoe store. He simply said, “You’re done playing with Amy. Every time the two of you play together, you cost me money. So either you break up with her now, or I get to buy new tires.”
So yeah. I think we have some new tires coming to our house, and all I have to say is that you can get A LOT of toenail polish for the price of four tires.
And also? Tires and shingles for your roof have to be the two most boring purchases a man can make.
My house never did get cleaned today, and my closet never did get organized, but low! The toes look FANTASTIC! You can’t deny the small fact that a princess needs regular upkeep.
Plus, it was approximately the temperature of FIRE outside, which rendered me weak and incapable of sorting through stacks of clothes and trying to decide what I want to keep, and what I want to donate to Good Will.
So, exactly like Scarlet O’Hara would have done, I’ll just think about that tomorrow.
When the forecast still calls for FIRE-LIKE temperatures.
And do you know what else we like to do when the mercury lands on 102 degrees?
Well, football camp, of course. Nothing screams out DEHYDRATION, HERE WE COME! like pretending to be Tim Tebow in Small Town in mid-July. I think that’s why the registration forms said, in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS at the top, “Your child may not participate in football camp without proof of insurance.” When the boys drop like flies because DID YOU HEAR? 102 DEGREES! the coaches want to know who to send the ER bill to.
Or the bobsled team.
Or even the ski team.
And that, people, is exactly how our Monday panned out. I am off to fiddle with that magic box on our hallway wall that controls the state of affairs at the Jedi Manor, in regards to INDOOR TEMPERATURES. I’m going to press the PLEASE HOLD TEMP AT NINETEEN DEGREES UNTIL WE CREATE SOME SNOW AND FROST IN THIS HOUSE button.
I’m actually looking forward to a temperature that involves putting socks over my fancy toes.