There’s nothing quite like a midweek holiday to mess up your momentum.
The Fourth of July fell on Thursday this year. I had to work four ten-hour days this week so I could “float” the holiday to later this year (long story, not important) and by Wednesday, I was exhausted. And, apparently, delirious.
“What are you doing with your day off?” a coworker asked
.
“I’m going to clean the house,” I said, and at the time, I meant it. “I want to do a thorough spring cleaning—you know, wash the walls, repaint the hallway, that sort of thing. Then I’m going to organize the basement and set things aside for a tag sale.”
“Sure you are,” this coworker said, and I missed the sarcasm in his voice. How did he know?
Thursday morning came about, and I slept in. (Four tens will do that to you.) When I finally rose and schlepped to the kitchen to get a mug of coffee, my husband casually mentioned that season three of Stranger Things had dropped on Netflix around two that morning.
In a puff of smoke, my day-off cleaning binge plans evaporated. “We’re watching it today, right?”
“I don’t know. There’s, like, eight episodes. I wanted to get yard work done.”
“The yard can wait. Winona Ryder can’t.” (She’s on the show. She could arguably also be lost in the grass that is our lawn, it’s so high, but priorities, people.)
Mug of precious caffeine filled to the brim, I plopped myself down in front of the television, remote in hand. “Ready?” I asked impatiently.
Jason seemed confused. “I thought you were cleaning today?”
I picked up Pugsley, running him along the furniture using his fur to dust off the back of the couch, and put him down again. “Done. Let’s start.”
As you might have guessed, the house is still a mess. The basement is nowhere near organized, and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. (At one point, when Jason insisted on a break to use the bathroom, I did go downstairs to blink at the catastrophe that is our basement shelves. It looked like a lot of work. But I was too worried about how episode six ended to concern myself with trivialities like clearing away cobwebs. Let the spiders and dust mites live in peace, I say!) Instead of making the country a little bit brighter by scrubbing my floors, I instead binged on eight hours of quality television.
Best Fourth of July I’ve had in years. But I don’t know if I can concentrate on cleaning the house now—not until the next season comes out, anyway.
The Fourth of July fell on Thursday this year. I had to work four ten-hour days this week so I could “float” the holiday to later this year (long story, not important) and by Wednesday, I was exhausted. And, apparently, delirious.
“What are you doing with your day off?” a coworker asked
.
“I’m going to clean the house,” I said, and at the time, I meant it. “I want to do a thorough spring cleaning—you know, wash the walls, repaint the hallway, that sort of thing. Then I’m going to organize the basement and set things aside for a tag sale.”
“Sure you are,” this coworker said, and I missed the sarcasm in his voice. How did he know?
Thursday morning came about, and I slept in. (Four tens will do that to you.) When I finally rose and schlepped to the kitchen to get a mug of coffee, my husband casually mentioned that season three of Stranger Things had dropped on Netflix around two that morning.
In a puff of smoke, my day-off cleaning binge plans evaporated. “We’re watching it today, right?”
“I don’t know. There’s, like, eight episodes. I wanted to get yard work done.”
“The yard can wait. Winona Ryder can’t.” (She’s on the show. She could arguably also be lost in the grass that is our lawn, it’s so high, but priorities, people.)
Mug of precious caffeine filled to the brim, I plopped myself down in front of the television, remote in hand. “Ready?” I asked impatiently.
Jason seemed confused. “I thought you were cleaning today?”
I picked up Pugsley, running him along the furniture using his fur to dust off the back of the couch, and put him down again. “Done. Let’s start.”
As you might have guessed, the house is still a mess. The basement is nowhere near organized, and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. (At one point, when Jason insisted on a break to use the bathroom, I did go downstairs to blink at the catastrophe that is our basement shelves. It looked like a lot of work. But I was too worried about how episode six ended to concern myself with trivialities like clearing away cobwebs. Let the spiders and dust mites live in peace, I say!) Instead of making the country a little bit brighter by scrubbing my floors, I instead binged on eight hours of quality television.
Best Fourth of July I’ve had in years. But I don’t know if I can concentrate on cleaning the house now—not until the next season comes out, anyway.
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