As of yesterday I've had my children in a state run educational institution from 8 am to 4 pm every day for a week and I have been home, alone, with my thoughts and with the blissful quiet.
Ahhh! God yes! My space is mine! I do not miss the whiny protestations and tattling of the last three months, the constant requests for some kind of snack, and I do not miss those stupid noises from cartoons or other adolescent programming.
Except for maybe ICarly. I am entertained by ICarly. If Miranda Cosgrove wants to come over and make goo-goo eyes at my teenaged son, I'd at first wonder if she was sane, and then I'd wonder if she had a sense of smell, but third I'd wonder if she'd accept the payment of my soul for the service. Please, Miranda, be my daughter in law. I'll share the family pancake recipe with you.
However, no one else is allowed to come over during the day. If the doorbell rings I will not be answering it. I am now unencumbered by the stifling summer months and I've found a necessary part of this has been to go about naked as a jaybird.
No joke. Newd. Naturism. Going back to my Darwinian roots short of throwing my poo.
I'm finally in control of all of my senses and that includes the delicious feeling of forced air conditioning all over my body while I perform matronly tasks, like loading the dishwasher and trying to figure if the Swiffer Mop my husband bought me is a conspiracy.
I've blown through all four seasons of Mad Men in all my pasty glory.
Now, I've got to stop you here. Do not hit that instant message button with a webcam request. Just because I'm sharing this happiness and freedom with you does not mean I'm share sharing with you. That defeats the whole purpose of just being myself for a little while. You can use your imagination.
Just don't imagine anything unseemly about me with any of the many nouns I've mentioned in this post and if you just did, no need to tell me about it.
I don't want to hear it and no, you can't have any more chips.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
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