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i like what she said, not what it means
Feb. 16th, 2006 10:06 pmI am not ready to start writing an entry but the boy is repeatedly mentioning how very close we are to bedtime. I, however, am busy with pictures and organizing and photoshopping and I am not at all sleepy. The real reason that I'm not ready to go to bed, though, is that I'm calling in sick tomorrow because really, Fridays aren't REAL workdays. *sigh* Okay, I guess I'm not actually calling in sick but I let myself have a nice daydream about what I could get accomplished in a four-day (I have Monday off) weekend and it was just so fantastic that I can't let it go. Going to be sorely disappointed in the morning, I'll bet.
Today's house productivity on my part consisted of cleaning the front doors. We have a wooden door and a storm door. M, by the way, hates the storm door with a red-hot passion. I am.. eh, about the storm door. I won't really argue the matter on keeping it when we eventually replace the front door (which is very likely to happen due to the whole seeing-daylight-at-the-edges thing, if nothing else) but I don't particularly loathe the door. Anyway. As this house has apparently not been cleaned in many thousand years, the doors were scuffy and dirty and generally disgusting.. and they also happened to be pretty low priority because we haven't done the rest of the (empty) living room yet either. Also, it's been freaking freezing until the last three days so it's been too cold to work on an object that's half outside. I've cleaned everything but the outside of the storm door now, which is, of course, what needs it the worst but it got dark and I am a great big old scaredy-cat when it comes to being outside at night by myself. Shaddup. I'm a very tiny person and it worries me. (from a song, fyi.)
Although I try to keep vile language out of my posts.. out of my public posts anyway... well, most of the time... I might as well tell you that I used an often-discouraged four-letter word in telling my husband what exactly he could go off and do tonight. But, dear internets, you would have done the same thing if it had been you! See, here's what happened. M declared that this was the night that he would stack up a bunch of tubs and boxes and stuff to be taken to the basement. The basement door is in the kitchen. We have a lot of stuff marked for storage. So I hear him in there moving stuff around, and then he comes in to tell me that he was done for the night and would finish taking stuff downstairs tomorrow. I asked him if there was much left, and he said, "oh, no, just a few items." And I thought.. sheesh, why not just do it all while you've got it started? Now I'm going to have crap hanging around in the kitchen for days--why bother stopping now? But I just said alright, fine, because that's how M and I operate--I figure that he knows best what he's going to do or not do, and I figured that a couple of boxes in the kitchen for a day wasn't enough to bother with the nagging.
Until I went to the kitchen, and promptly marched back to find M and use the previously mentioned four-letter word. This is why:
Done for the night? Oh, boyo, I think not.
He is a freak, but I love him. He laughed like I had made a particularly disgusting fart joke--what is it with boys and fart jokes, anyway?--because he had just been waiting for me to notice. Silly boy.
Today's house productivity on my part consisted of cleaning the front doors. We have a wooden door and a storm door. M, by the way, hates the storm door with a red-hot passion. I am.. eh, about the storm door. I won't really argue the matter on keeping it when we eventually replace the front door (which is very likely to happen due to the whole seeing-daylight-at-the-edges thing, if nothing else) but I don't particularly loathe the door. Anyway. As this house has apparently not been cleaned in many thousand years, the doors were scuffy and dirty and generally disgusting.. and they also happened to be pretty low priority because we haven't done the rest of the (empty) living room yet either. Also, it's been freaking freezing until the last three days so it's been too cold to work on an object that's half outside. I've cleaned everything but the outside of the storm door now, which is, of course, what needs it the worst but it got dark and I am a great big old scaredy-cat when it comes to being outside at night by myself. Shaddup. I'm a very tiny person and it worries me. (from a song, fyi.)
Although I try to keep vile language out of my posts.. out of my public posts anyway... well, most of the time... I might as well tell you that I used an often-discouraged four-letter word in telling my husband what exactly he could go off and do tonight. But, dear internets, you would have done the same thing if it had been you! See, here's what happened. M declared that this was the night that he would stack up a bunch of tubs and boxes and stuff to be taken to the basement. The basement door is in the kitchen. We have a lot of stuff marked for storage. So I hear him in there moving stuff around, and then he comes in to tell me that he was done for the night and would finish taking stuff downstairs tomorrow. I asked him if there was much left, and he said, "oh, no, just a few items." And I thought.. sheesh, why not just do it all while you've got it started? Now I'm going to have crap hanging around in the kitchen for days--why bother stopping now? But I just said alright, fine, because that's how M and I operate--I figure that he knows best what he's going to do or not do, and I figured that a couple of boxes in the kitchen for a day wasn't enough to bother with the nagging.
Until I went to the kitchen, and promptly marched back to find M and use the previously mentioned four-letter word. This is why:
Done for the night? Oh, boyo, I think not.
He is a freak, but I love him. He laughed like I had made a particularly disgusting fart joke--what is it with boys and fart jokes, anyway?--because he had just been waiting for me to notice. Silly boy.
