It's a gorgeous spring morning, and what song do I have stuck in my head?
"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, won't you be mine? Please. Won't you be mine?"
How come I can remember the opening song to that PBS show "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood," but I can't remember things like where I left my keys? Which is more important? The ability to sing the Please Won't You Be...Mah Neighbor song or the ability to zero in on the blasted keys? Once, I was looking for the keys frantically. (Okay, I look for my keys frantically more times than I care to admit, but just go with it for the sake of the story, huh?) I KNEW I'd left them on my purse. They were not with my purse. Finally, in exasperation, I asked the kids, "Have you seen my keys?" My oldest son said, "Mom, I hung them up on the key rack for you." Clearly I never USE the key rack myself, so it hadn't occurred to me to look there. Sure enough, my keys hung from one of the hooks. Thanks, kid, for hanging up my keys and giving me heart failure, all at the same time. He smirked. Teenagers.
I've noticed a frightening phenomenon in my house. It's called "Nobody Notices The Dishes Need to Be Done But Mom." This also applies to noticing that the trash and recycling needs to be taken out. That the bathroom(s) need to be cleaned. That the vacuuming needs to be done. Kids aren't going to be happy, but starting like, yanno, Monday, they're going to have to do chores before they go outside to play. Homework, chores, THEN you can play. Don't whine and complain about it, I'm not responsible for the pee puddles that have accumulated on and around the toilet in your bathroom, mainly for 2 reasons: 1. I don't use your bathroom (because of the pee puddles) and 2. Girls don't have to aim and clearly YOU guys don't think YOU need to aim, either.
So, with Mom visiting at the end of the week, I'm on a mission today. Yep. A cleaning mission. Lucky me. I can hardly wait. Actually, I can wait. Because, yanno, I'm so excited about having to find a chair to stand on so I can clean the microwave over the stove. I'm short, it's up high, I can't reach into it to wipe it down on a regular basis. Unfortunately for me, the last, um...several times I've used it, the food has exploded and made a big, nasty, ugly mess. Mr. Laura noticed the mess in there and asked, "What happened to the microwave?" Me: "It needs to be cleaned." Him: "Oh." And he closed the microwave door and walked away from it. Fits right in with the phenomenon I mentioned above. My mom's short, too, like me, so mebbe she won't notice the disgusting state of my microwave? Hope springs eternal. Don't let this make you think my house is thisclose to being declared unfit for human habitation. So far, the EPA hasn't noticed the green haze hovering over our house, and the neighbors haven't complained, either. Hehe. No, seriously. It's not THAT bad. (Yet.)
I have a small consolation, however. Mr. Laura is taking ALL the boys to man a booth with the Boy Scout troop at whatever whatty is going on downtown today. They're leaving probably in the next hour. No, you don't hear me cheering. Really. That must be your computer making some weird noise. You really should have that checked. They'll be gone until mid-afternoon, returning in time to eat and leave (Mr. Laura and the older two) to go to a merit badge class this evening. It'll just be the youngest stinker and me tonight, until after nine. No. You don't hear me cheering. He'll probably make me watch something like Cars. Which is fine and cute, but it's not my favorite. I'd rather watch something non-animated, and preferably with eye candy. Mebbe I can con him into watching Wolverine. *Ahem.* If Mr. Jackman didn't wish to be oogled by housewives across the world, he should've gone into a different line of work. One that doesn't require he climb a rock, nekkid. Yeah. Really. We went and saw this movie on Mother's Day 2 years ago, right? And right there, on the big screen, my Mother's Day present: Nekkid Hugh Jackman butt. I thanked my husband for the nice gift and he told me, "You're welcome. Now you can't say I don't love you."
Serious digression there.
So...in the middle of all this cleaning that will be going on today, and daydreaming about my reward (Wolverine)... I have one more consolation gift. A brownie from Mimi's Cafe, complete with ice cream and chocolate sauce to drizzle on it. Brought it home from lunch yesterday, when I Mr. Lauranapped Mr. Laura from work to go out to lunch with me. Is it lunchtime yet? I know what I'm having and hopefully, it won't be bleach-scented chocolate brownie with ice cream and chocolate sauce. Maybe I should wait to start that portion of the cleaning until AFTER I've et.
An added bonus... maybe I'll get to write today. Sure. Go ahead. Hold your breath. I'll catch you when you faint from lack of oxygen.