A Heartfelt Plea

Despite my aforementioned raging hangover headache, yes, my non-alcohol related headache, I’m working frantically to get my weekend chores completed. While ferrying trash and recyclables (hey, I’m nothing if not environmentally conscious) from my inner sanctum to the appropriate cans outside, I can’t help but notice the temperature has taken a serious nose-dive from the pleasantly balmy weather we had yesterday, but, in retrospect, not unlike the wintry weather we had just last week.

To which I say, for the love of god(dess?), Mother Nature, pick a season and stick with it! Please. I’m begging you.

 

 

 

Procrastinators, Unite! Tomorrow…

Procrastination:  The fine art of avoiding easy and ordinary chores until they become insurmountable and you need bottles of wine to tackle them.

You all may remember Petra, my beloved burrowing Chihuahua.   I have had to post Lost and Found signs around my house this week.  The last I saw of her, she had chased a ball into my laundry room.  I haven’t seen her since.  I suspect she is trapped under the mountains of socks, towels and sheets awaiting the eager, empty washing machine.  I have taken to throwing treats under the clean piles that I refuse to put away, in the hopes of drawing her out.  I did see a shirt moving last night, and I can only hope it was Petra under there.

I think we can all relate to the Dishwasher Conundrum.  We have dishwashers, beautiful, work saving dishwashers.  It should be as easy as: put dirty dishes in, hit button, remove clean dishes.  I think we all know that is laughable.  The reality is far more sinister.  Let’s review:

  1. Load dishwasher with every spoon, fork and dish we are too lazy to rinse off. Don’t judge me, I know you are guilty of stirring your coffee and putting your spoon in the dishwasher.
  1. Rearrange the now overflowing dishwasher contents to fit in Just One More Cup.
  1. Now that there is no room whatsoever left, finally hit the power button.
  1. Enjoy that unique smell of hot water and detergent. It will be the last time you go near that thing for days.
  1. Place a dish in the sink, with the full intention of emptying the dishwasher the next time you go in the kitchen. You’re far too busy now.
  1. Place a cup, carefully filled with water, atop the dish in the sink. You’ll get to the dishwasher later.
  1. Continue placing dishes in the sink. At this point, you no longer even try to lie to yourself. Those clean dishes are staying in the dishwasher until you move.
  1. Dish Jenga has become the new favorite sport in your house. You now have dishes piled to the ceiling in the sink, overflowing onto the counters, and have been hiding them under the couch cushions.  You consider moving so you don’t have to feel the guilt of the clean dishes crying forlornly in the dishwasher.
  1. Give in, and put the dishes away. At this point, you realize the dishes have aged to the point that they are considered “antique.”  You call the Antiques Roadshow, but they can’t get anyone out to evaluate your dishes; all their personnel are busy balancing dinner dishes in the sink.

My house has several stages of clean, while we’re talking about procrastination.  There is “me” clean, where I write the grocery list in the dust on the desk.  Then, there is “friend” clean, where I at least pick up empty bags of chips and throw away soda cans.  Then, there is the “I’m having a party, oh crap” clean.  Sometimes I throw a party just to have an excuse to vacuum the rugs.  I don’t clean up as soon as I plan the party, though; heck, no.  I perform best under pressure.  Give me thirty minutes with a houseful of people expected, and I will deliver you the cleanest house you’ve ever seen.  Just don’t open the closets.

Procrastination has been on my mind lately, as I realize I don’t always keep up with my fellow bloggers nearly as well as I should, instead tending to read days worth of entries in one evening, sending off a flurry of “likes” to show my appreciation for your talent and dedication to blogging.  I enjoy your writing so much, and I hate that I get so behind.  To all of you who are ready to disown me because you get a week’s worth of alerts in ten minutes, I do humbly apologize. And to be completely honest, it’s not procrastination, between work and a life filled with crazy, I just can’t seem to stay on top of things. To be clear, though, you guys are not “chores,” you are rays of light in my hectic, chaotic life.  I thank you all for making me laugh, think, and sometimes get a little misty.

And you know, I really had more to add to the subject of procrastination, but I’ll tell you later.

Sunday Blues

Even though tomorrow is a holiday, Sunday still sucks.

Ahhh…President’s Day, a holiday honoring the respected leaders of our fine country – originally dedicated to George Washington and in recent years, including Abraham Lincoln as well – has devolved into massive sales at the car dealer and department stores if the commercials are any indication. Nothing says “respect” and “honor” like 50% off a flat screen t.v. or 2% interest on a 300 year loan for a new all bells and whistles included four-door. Unless you’re employed by a bank, the feds, or schools, you still go to work…so no fun there. And as far as I know, no-one is going to suddenly be inspired to fill my wallet with spendable paper images of those bygone leaders either. It’s just not one of those Monday holidays that can justify a wicked hangover and blank spaces that force you to inquire of every friend you meet throughout the day: “hey, did we see each other last night? what the hell was I doing? no, seriously, WHAT was I doing, and more importantly WHERE? I can’t find my shoes!”

So, yeah. Laundry it is…

doing-laundry