General Messiness

My house is a mess. It's a good match with my mind.

Decorations are still strewn about. The tree is still naked. The husband is procrastinating (and I'm letting it go) because this is the first year neither child has been at home while we decorate the tree. He's promised to do the lights this evening.

I really wouldn't care except I'm having some ladies over for lunch tomorrow. Will they overlook the unadorned tree?

The oldies are a mess. There's a stomach virus or something going around. She got it with a vengeance. I was informed of its onset by Hangdog standing in the kitchen, screaming my name and then yelling, "Emergency!" I'm far from Superwoman but I think I leapt a couple of things to get to the other end of the house. While I was tending to her messiness AND trying to make her comfortable, he poked me and said, "There's a knot in one of my shoelaces."

There's a trail of toast crumbs plus cinnamon and sugar on my kitchen floor. I know that because I just crunched through it. It's one thing I don't have to clean up. Gabby will handle it.

My nails are a mess. I meant to do a manicure yesterday but instead, I spent that time curled up with the mother-in-law trying to comfort her. Call me crazy but I thought that seemed a little more important.

There's a mountain of office paperwork waiting for attention. I keep digging a tunnel through it and ignoring it. There's also a mountain of laundry. It will wait.

If you are on my Christmas card list and the envelope you receive is splattered, I have an explanation. I left them on the kitchen island and bacon grease got a little out of control. I'm sending them anyway.

The husband hates clutter and mess. I have no idea why he's still speaking to me.

Thumps in the Night

The oldies have bizarre sleep patterns. Well, she does. He could sleep through a tsunami.

I used to sleep like a baby. These days, I am awakened regularly by sounds. She's doing laundry at 3:00 am. She's going outside to have a cigarette. She's fixing him a snack. So, I lie in bed wondering if she's going to fall, if she remembered to lock the door when she came back in, if she's using the stove, etc. Exhaustive and not condusive to a good night's sleep.

Last year, I was in Florida with some friend and my husband was sound asleep in our bed. She fell in the laundry room, split her head open and crawled into our bedroom to get help. He describes it as waking up to a horror movie. She was covered in blood, head to toe. Even going through that experience doesn't stop her.

I'm thinking of instituting a bedroom curfew. Yeah, that's going to happen!