If I just pretend that my house doesn't need to be cleaned, that there aren't a dozen more Christmas decorations to be put up, that my daughter isn't spreading mayhem and chaos around the living room, and that my son WILL stay asleep and not wake up in an hour's time, I can quite successfully delude myself that I have enough time to post a blog and catch up on some internet reading. Yep, nothing pending here! Nope, we're just fine and dandy, all ready for that party tomorrow, thanks!
I think DH is a bit peeved with me, because after a whole day of attempting to get stuff DONE for the party, and being stymied at every turn by a myriad of other responsibilities and whining children and naptimes and lunchtimes, I declared myself non compus mentus at approximately 5:36 pm and trooped out of the house by myself, leaving DH to shepherd the children through last minute errand running after getting out of a two hour and twenty minute work call at 5:35:50. He just stared at me blankly when I put on my jacket and said I was leaving, assumed I was pissed at him, and I left for my sanity break.
And believe me, it was a sanity break. I'm just not up for this whole house cleaning and vacuuming and mopping and toilet cleaning at the last minute gig any more. Thank you, I'm done now, can I check out? Yeah. So over the whole housecleaning thing. What I could not tell my DH and really had to take some time to figure out myself is that I am burned out on doing all the vacuuming, mopping, schlepping of recycling and trash to the bins, etc. Don't get me wrong. DH does pitch in and do his fair share. But as I've mentioned before, you get tired of doing the same old things, and, well, you don't want to do them any more. Or at least not for a while. Unfortunately for DH, this realization has occurred approximately 17 hours before our party. D'oh!
I don't know if I'm going to be in the mood to do it tomorrow, either, to be honest. I'm kind of peeved about the last minute pattern we've got going, wherein I do all the sweaty cleaning and DH preps the food. Well, I think I'd like to do food prep tomorrow, thanks. Somehow tidying up our small kitchen and slicing cheese and arranging food on trays seems more appealing than wrestling our vacuum cleaner around the house, or scrubbing the toilets, or cleaning the birdcage and moving the decaying Halloween pumpkins (finally, although to be fair we never go in or out the front door so we just forgot about them until I swept the walks today) to the compost pile. Yep, food prep sounds pretty good to me right now. I don't even care if I put up the rest of the decorations--as far as I'm concerned, I can throw my pretty red velvet tablecloth on the dining room table and prop up a wreath on the sideboard and call it good. I don't even care that our pretty crystal isn't artfully arranged on our display shelf in the living room. Ok, maybe I care just a little. But, the point being, I don't want to do the cleaning. And, well, when your husband has just gotten off a 2+ hour work call and is going to schlep two tired and cranky kids to two stores (one of which is Costco), well, how do you say that to him?
The answer, of course, is you blog about it. So there you go dear. Finally, the answer to your question. Good luck with that toilet bowl.
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