Sunday, January 29, 2006
Sunday Night Blues
I hate it when Kevin works on the weekend. I like it when he works on a weekday. It's sort of nice to have a quiet evening to myself and then Top and I get the whole bed at night. But on weekends it's just too much quiet. I like to think that I'm going to have these super productive days when Kevin is gone. Instead, I turn into this giant slug. I'm hard pressed to even do my usual, everyday household things. I sit there on the couch with Top snuggled on my feet and the thought of folding laundry or emptying the dishwasher is just too daunting. I had one goal for today...go to the grocery store. But I hate grocery shopping! I don't know why, I just hate it. So I watched all of my soap operas left from the week on TiVo. Then I watched Will and Grace. Then I watched When Harry Met Sally. Sometime in there I actually brushed the cat and Top took a shower with me (yes, once a week the dog takes a shower with me). So the animals were clean even if the rest of the house was sort of a mess.
Before I got pregnant I was like this weekend warrior when it came to cleaning my house. I mean, I scrubbed it from top to bottom every weekend. Now I clean the bathrooms, take a nap. Clean the kitchen, have a snack, take a nap. Dust, take a nap. Then there's the vacuuming, my least favorite part. Then, since our house is mostly hardwood floors, I have to dust mop because I simply loath dust bunnies under the furniture. It's just tacky. Then sometimes, like today, the floors beg to be sponge mopped. It wants to be shiny like it used to be every weekend. So I did it.
I went to the grocery store and before I lost momentum I cleaned the whole house. It's gleaming...for now. Tomorrow Kevin and the pets will destroy all of my hard work. It's what they do. And now that the frenzied cleaning is over (and the laundry is even all folded!), I have the Sunday Blues. The I-hate-my-job-and-I-can't-fathom-five-whole-days-of-it blues.
Wow, this was a really boring post. Sorry, mates. I just wanted to write something since I know I'm going to spend the work week feeling sorry for myself and eating ice cream and may not get around to writing. Tomorrow I'm having a "talk" with my supervisor, who is a cow and hates me. My only goal there is to not cry because she has never had a nice word for me. Ever. Maybe I'll surprise myself and think of something clever to say while I'm in there instead of an hour later like I usually do. I wish firemen made more money so I could just tell her that she is a miserable old hag and QUIT!
And I know what you're thinking. What if she googles my name and reads my blog? That's ok. Things there can't get any worse. Boy, do I sound like a boo-bird. Grump grump grump!
I hate it when Kevin works on the weekend. I like it when he works on a weekday. It's sort of nice to have a quiet evening to myself and then Top and I get the whole bed at night. But on weekends it's just too much quiet. I like to think that I'm going to have these super productive days when Kevin is gone. Instead, I turn into this giant slug. I'm hard pressed to even do my usual, everyday household things. I sit there on the couch with Top snuggled on my feet and the thought of folding laundry or emptying the dishwasher is just too daunting. I had one goal for today...go to the grocery store. But I hate grocery shopping! I don't know why, I just hate it. So I watched all of my soap operas left from the week on TiVo. Then I watched Will and Grace. Then I watched When Harry Met Sally. Sometime in there I actually brushed the cat and Top took a shower with me (yes, once a week the dog takes a shower with me). So the animals were clean even if the rest of the house was sort of a mess.
Before I got pregnant I was like this weekend warrior when it came to cleaning my house. I mean, I scrubbed it from top to bottom every weekend. Now I clean the bathrooms, take a nap. Clean the kitchen, have a snack, take a nap. Dust, take a nap. Then there's the vacuuming, my least favorite part. Then, since our house is mostly hardwood floors, I have to dust mop because I simply loath dust bunnies under the furniture. It's just tacky. Then sometimes, like today, the floors beg to be sponge mopped. It wants to be shiny like it used to be every weekend. So I did it.
I went to the grocery store and before I lost momentum I cleaned the whole house. It's gleaming...for now. Tomorrow Kevin and the pets will destroy all of my hard work. It's what they do. And now that the frenzied cleaning is over (and the laundry is even all folded!), I have the Sunday Blues. The I-hate-my-job-and-I-can't-fathom-five-whole-days-of-it blues.
Wow, this was a really boring post. Sorry, mates. I just wanted to write something since I know I'm going to spend the work week feeling sorry for myself and eating ice cream and may not get around to writing. Tomorrow I'm having a "talk" with my supervisor, who is a cow and hates me. My only goal there is to not cry because she has never had a nice word for me. Ever. Maybe I'll surprise myself and think of something clever to say while I'm in there instead of an hour later like I usually do. I wish firemen made more money so I could just tell her that she is a miserable old hag and QUIT!
And I know what you're thinking. What if she googles my name and reads my blog? That's ok. Things there can't get any worse. Boy, do I sound like a boo-bird. Grump grump grump!
