I have today off. WOO HOO. (I'm working Saturday and Sunday so don't get any 3-day weekend fantasies in your head.) I dragged a load of my laundry to the laundry room and commenced a get-it-up-on-the-clothesline race against time. (Afternoon sea breezes undo all that sunlit drying.)
About 11 am, the phone rang - it was my genius husband informing me that a friend of ours was coming over for a home cooked dinner. Whatever. It's my night to cook, and that isn't a problem. I can cook for hordes without breaking a sweat. What IS a problem is the house has been a little, er, neglected lately and things were pretty dusty. And messy. And - you get the idea. I have, in vain, tried to explain to my husband that when people come over and see a mess, they don't leave and say, "Hey, that Joe needs to get some housework done!" No, it's always the wife that takes the hit for any untidiness.
One thing led to another, and I have spent the last three hours cleaning, moving plants outside, dusting, vacuuming, ironing tablecloths (long story) and now I am HOT AND TIRED. Bonus - I'm not finished. The house looks good, but I haven't spent this long looking at things in a while. Let's just say I've made some executive decisions.
On my next day off, I am calling Goodwill. I am telling them to bring the BIG truck. My husband will learn that he should never give me an opportunity to asses the clutter in this house again. (Fair disclosure - it's mostly his crap. Honest. It includes some of his mother's furniture that needs to go away. Forever.)
It's payback, baby. After 22 years, you would think he would know better than to mess with me.
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