OK, so today, I have done something that I have overlooked for the past 18 weeks as I have exhaustively (or should I say exhaustEDly) been studying anatomy.
Lately, I have become aware of a certain, shall we say, funky odor in my house. I don't know what it's from, but there comes a time when you have to get rid of the stinky smell in the house. So, I made Tim and the boys move out. No, not really. Because as cute as they are, they really have no skills for survival that I have seen, so to throw them out would be really cruel. (Tim would probably do OK, though. He's a grownup.)
No, what I did was: CLEAN MY HOUSE. Again, just because I stay at home does not mean that this happens regularly. Today, I filled my little bucket with Pine-Sol and actually mopped the floors and dusted the furniture. I know, it sounds simple, but I'm not kidding when I say that I had dog-hair tumbleweeds blowing under my furniture the size of a Shi-Tzu.
So now I feel like I do after nookie: I wonder why it took me so long to do it again. Because although I could have done a lot of other things, it is strangely satisfying when you're done.
Although I think that having a two-foot human trailing after me chanting "Mama, Mama Mama Mama" (his only clear word; believe me, the magic of hearing "Mama" is gone) is part of the experience I could do without. My semi-mute son delights in standing on the step I'm trying to sweep, or standing behind me as I whirl around to wipe something off, then gets outraged when I scream, "Move!" Or he will try to dip the broom into the mop bucket. Or throw his cars under the dining room table that I just put back in his toybox. Sigh.
So now I'm off to Border's to buy a book that purports to explain why my husband and son think and read so slowly, and fix it. (Here's a thought: FOCUS! But that's just me being negative.)
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