After going to Guy's office picnic last night, it was high time this morning to do laundry, including the bedcovers upon which Someone Furry or Someone Else Furry barfed a few days ago. I had four loads of wash going by 8am, including the cotton twill slipcovers for our Crate-n-Barrel red chaise. After a couple of years of cat and human butts alike slurming on it (including mine for ten months straight while studying for the ARE), it was time to defunk that particularly hard-worn piece of furniture.
Getting the cover off the back pillow was easy, and the cover came off of the main seat cushion a bit like removing pantyhose, but getting said covers back on took a shoehorn, fervent prayer and cursing, and an act of Congress. The back pillow again wasn't too bad, being that the pillow insert was designed to give and flex inside the cover, but the seat cushion was meant to have a pretty damn snug fit. I spent the better part of ten minutes wrestling the cover on the seat cushion only to find that I was putting it on backwards. Gott in Himmel. So, I wrestled it off again like pulling a snowsuit off a squirmy toddler hopped up on Snickers bars and Yoo-Hoos and spent another eight or some minutes putting it on correctly, then another five zipping the damn thing up. All that relaxing I just did by the rooftop pool has definitely worn off.
Yet again, I find myself utterly without energy, without motivation. At work, I'm staring down the barrel of projects I was hoping not to be on for the long haul but seem to be. And I'm staring at four projects, that is; multitasking is not something that I do well for very long. Either the work suffers or my mental health suffers. I swiffed the house, at least. I dont' know about you, but swiffing the house is the one task I can make myself do every week. A couple of swiffer cloths encrusted in black mile-high dust and cat hair make me feel like I've accomplished something. If I do nothing else the rest of the weekend, I can at least say that I've done something around the house, something semi-productive. I could stand to mop that nasty kitchen floor. However, I plan on baking salmon tonight and I know that's gonna be energy I'm gonna need later.
Does all of the above sound like a lot of mental noise and busywork? Seeing my stream of consciousness typed out in Arial font makes me sound like Woody Allen with tits and better glasses. I see small piles and messes around the house that need sorting, straightening, or throwing out, and I can't bring myself to do it. I see splotches of dried Kool-Aid in the kitchen floor and think, "Mmm, not happening. Where's Maddy? Does she like Kool-Aid?" I suppose the only thing left to do this afternoon is to take this polish off my toes (thanks for the props, Baxtersmum!) and redo my nails. Hell, Guy's even napping right now. Sarge often says that he prefers to do some of his chores during the week after work so he doesn't end up spending his whole weekend working. It's a good plan indeed, but what happens when I can't even get my chores done during the week? And why the hell do I even care when I ought to be snorgling Maddy, who's glaring at me from the hall, and relaxing and enjoying a nice warm summer Sunday in Colorado?
Hmm...I think toes and fingernails will be Orly "Flagstone Rush". Mopping might be better saved until Monday night.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
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3 comments:
"Woody Allen with tits and better glasses?" Puts me in mind of a scene from the Woody Allen movie, Sleeper. There were household robots in that movie and Woody had to impersonate one. He discovered that when one of the robots broke down a technition would come by and remove it's head with a Stelson wrench.
Multitasking is like sitting on a stool in a dunk tank. There are 4 targets and people are throwing balls one after another at all four targets at the same time. You have a baseball glove on each hand and you have to reach a long distance to cover two of the targets. A hit on any target dunks you. It is frustrating and you just know somebody is going to get a ball past you sometime. The first rule in the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy is "Always bring your towel."
Yes, but think of all the extra exercise you got!
Yes, Faded! Bring your towel! Then others will be willing to loan you soap, etc.
Or you can use it to wipe the sweat off when you're done with your slipcover workout, Miss Kit!
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