(Not) Getting Stuff Done

The problem with long weekends is they give you inflated ideas of how much you can actually get done. Maybe not major home improvement projects, but, you know, stuff. Like laundry and gardening, or housework, or breaking down that pile of cardboard boxes that has piled up because you never go to stores anymore, you just order things from Amazon and Zappos, and curbside recycling is Tuesday and won't that be a good time to get it all out?

None of this seems very unreasonable, does it? This isn't transforming the suburban split-level into the Taj Mahal, here. It's just simple upkeep.

And then, your husband spends Friday night ascending the north face of the Matterhorn in his dreams, which means you don't drop off to sleep until something like 3 am, after he's planted the flag at the summit, and that's not so very awful, you think, as you slide into unconsciousness, because it's Saturday and a long weekend and there's plenty of time, right?

Plenty of time, indeed, until a cat decides that it doesn't matter if it's Saturday and a long weekend, or the Viking manbear has been mountaineering all night, it is 6:30 and therefore it is breakfast time and he is hungry now, yet somehow his antics do not wake the sleeping giant beside you, though they do wake the dog, who has been snoring blissfully all night and now thinks it would be a nice time to go out, but for reasons inexplicable to all, never asks his lord and master (whom he adores) but instead always comes to your side of the bed and pokes his cold wet nose into you because, hey mom, it's morning and I need to pee and could I have some kibble, too?

Next thing you know, it's Tuesday morning, the grass is still uncut, the pile of boxes is still there, and all you accomplished was scrubbing the kitchen counters, baking some rolls, and writing a few very long sentences.

This is not to say that at least the first two of those things were not good and useful things to do. It's just that you feel you could have done more in the time you had, except that after that first night's lack of sleep all plans fell apart.

Of scrubbing counters I will say only this: I do not care how poor (or cheap) you are, or in how much a rush you are to redo the kitchen so you can sell the house and settle your divorce. DO NOT PAINT THE KITCHEN COUNTERS WITH YOUR CHEAP-ARSE LATEX PAINT. It will make the counters a pain to scrub and make you look like the poor, cheap, soon-to-be-divorced bastard you are.

Of baking I have more to say, but I've probably used up my quota of sleep-deprived run-on sentences for the day, so I'll talk about that next time.