Monday, May 13, 2013

The Day After Mother's Day: A Review

Good morning, and welcome to the day after. Writing the day after offers the opportunity to look back and reflect, review, and any other "R's" you wish to perform.

Yesterday started innocuously enough. I woke up at approximately 6 am after a lovely sleep-in surrounded by three dogs, ranging in weight and size from @ 20 pounds to 40 pounds. Two of them snore, quite prodigiously. The third has an insane relationship with the world's gravitational field and is able to make herself seem twice as heavy as she really is while sleeping. Not my dog, I only discovered in the past two weeks that she likes to stretch out in full body-to-body contact with her person. Can you say "warm?" 

After taking the three lunatics through their morning routine: out form a quick pee, feed, take out for a more leisurely pee, etc, I checked my to-do list. It had been fairly extensive at one point but had shrunk to a manageable size with diligence and application. 

To-do List
Hot tub chemicals
Water plants
Sweep and tidy kitchen
Value village pile to car
Pick up people from airport at 11:58
Phone Mom

Not bad! Doing the chemicals while dogs are having their leisurely backyard pee means not standing outside in the rain twice. But it's not raining today! Well, doesn't that just thrill me all to pieces?! Looks like it might be a sunny day after all. Turns out that yesterday was a beautiful day. Sunny and warm with a hint of balmy on the air. A bit of fish, too. (That happens sometimes, when the wind blows up from the ocean.)

Water plants. Uh-oh. Left that one out. Better do that today before they wilt again. Seriously, I have some unfortunate plants. They're nice and all, but they sure do like their water on a regular basis. Since watering all the plants means filling and refilling a medium sized container over and over, trekking through several rooms of the house, clambering onto the kitchen counter in some instances, this chore is slightly dodgy. In that I tend to dodge it. Doing it on a weekly basis gives some leeway. I use the Peace Lily as my "canary in the coal mine." If it's wilty and sad, I need to water the plants. Now. So, the lily wasn't wilty and I left them off. Did I feel energetic enough to go back and forth from room to kitchen tap? No. Did I feel like clambering, monkey-like across the kitchen counters? Apparently the answer there was also "no." So, that's still on for today. 

Tidying the kitchen means making piles on the table, assigning a name to the piles, and offering them to their respective owners for relocation. Once the piles are made, the table is rendered washable. Then comes the negotiation process of de-piling the table. That has a tendency to sound something like "move your darned stuff before I toss it in the garbage." This is said in varying tones of threat and is quite effective. Follow-through on threats is important in the setting-up stage of this particular game.

The rest of the kitchen clean-up comprised of your basic run-of-the-mill washing, wiping, and sweeping, and doesn't need further description other than to say that dish washing liquid is excellent for scrubbing granite sinks. 

I just want to point out Vacuuming is best not done while wearing a floor-length, polar fleece robe. I don't mind getting sweaty for a good cause, but vacuuming isn't good enough. So, tossing on a t-shirt  and pair of capris became necessary at this point. 

I'm going to mention the three-dog pile-up members briefly. They have varying degrees of shedding coats. The two cavaliers, despite have ing lovely locks of flowing hair, shed only slightly. The blonde, a yellow lab cross, sheds copiously despite frequent brushing and furminating. The furballs that float across the hardwood and catch on the carpets have taken on a whole new dimension since her arrival. Larger, spikier,and larger. MUCH larger. And copious. Did I mention "copious?" We like to air out the house by opening doors, front and back, catching the full breeze. Whether de-hairing the house is done before or after the opening of the doors, when the wind blows through the house it invariably finds tumbleweed sized balls of hair that lift and frolic through the air, sticking to every possible surface, thereby rendering any previous cleaning a moot point. Allergy sufferers need not attempt entry. Those who don't enjoy a dog hair or two in their food, ditto. Yes, our dogs shed.

The V.V. Boutique pile has been a work in progress for several weeks. You know how it is. You have stuff, too. It's stuff you acquired with a light and happy heart, intending to love forever, or until the warranty expired. Then the elves in your closet shrunk the clothes down a size, rendering your favorite jeans unwearable, styles changed (huh?!) and you can't be seen in public wearing that out-dated old thing, you really can't remember why you bought that knick-knack that seems to gather more dust than anything else in the house and sits next to a couple of other things that seem to have lost their sentimental value now that you've had to pick them up and dust them off off at least a million times... 

The number of bags and boxes tucked in the car reminded me of the time my boys moved out. It made me wonder what my neighbors thought, if they were watching the show. Don't worry! I'm not moving! Just de-cluttering the place! 

All that was left on my list was the picking up of the people from the airport at noon. So, I sat down for a well-deserved cup of chai and a bowl of yogurt. But first, I'll check the St. John's Arrivals, to make sure their plane is going to be on time. This timely task caused a mad scramble for the truck. Their darned flight was early by nearly half an hour! How many minutes does it take to get from the house to the airport? Five. Keep an eye out for the cherry-topped vehicles. No. Not really. I knew that luggage collection would slow them down, so I drove at a fairly sedate pace. Ask my mom! I was chatting on my cell phone while driving to the airport...  Relax people. I use a Bluetooth.

So, there was my next task taken care of. Phoned my mom to wish her a Happy Mother's Day.

The rest of the day was spent with my "newly-arrived home from San Fransisco" family, the boys came over for a delicious dinner, which I didn't have to cook. An early bedtime following the imbibation (is that even a word?!) of a few glasses of white wine capped off my day quite nicely. 

And look at that! It's Monday morning and my Sweetie brought a cup of coffee for me to enjoy in bed, and the sun is shining over Torbay. There's still three dogs in my bed, but they're good company. They keep a keen eye out for hikers and dogs walking on "their" section of the East Coast trail. The house is clean, it's the middle day of a three-day weekend for me, and I have no plans other than to get out and enjoy the sun. Can it get better than that for the day after Mother's Day? I thought not.

To all the mothers out there, Happy Day After Mother's Day!

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Wake up call

Wake up call
Sunrise over Torbay