It’s turning into one of those days.
I set the alarm clock today, on a Saturday. There was much to do.
Laundry spilled from the hamper like a man in a barrel spills over Niagra Falls. My house was dirty again. It seems impossible a few tiny rooms can accumulate so much dirt while we sleep, but it happens. It’s clean one minute and the next, it looks like a family of pigs invaded my home and decided to have a party.
I don’t understand.
Company was coming for dinner, a group of hungry hunters. My husband promised them hot food. He quit promising good food long ago. Now all he can say is “It will be hot.”
I can do that.
Then my son falls sick, bitten by the same plague-like bug running through our school system. It’s taking down the healthiest of children. For the second time this fall, one of my kids has strep throat. It’s a first. The strep bug usually passes by our home. I must have forgotten to paint the doorpost in Lysol.
I scrubbed the toilet, mopped the floors, swept away the spider’s webs, did the dishes, vacuumed the living room, even under the couch. Oh, the things I found under the couch.
I baked a cake, peeled and cut apples for baking. I made two pounds of macaroni and cheese, home-made. The rest of dinner was just waiting on the small hand of the clock to turn…just a little more.
And the phone rang.
I cleaned under the couch for nothing.
Anyone want to risk a bug and come for dinner?