Sunday, September 9, 2012

Lesson #57: A Strong Husband is Pretty Handy

Here's my Sunday morning schedule:

-Wake up before the butt crack of dawn
-Try and get dressed and ready with little light while praying I don't wake Lyndon up
-Inevitably wake Lyndon up
-Scarf down some cereal
-Head down to Bellevue University at 6:30 for church set up, rehearsal, and service
-Tear down everything that was set up a few hours before
-Go home
-Try and recover

For some reason, I thought adding more to my morning and waking up even earlier would be a great idea.  I decided to wake up with enough time to make coffee cake for me, my fellow Christ Community friends who had to be there just as early, and the husband.  I was up at 4:30, mixing ingredients in my beautiful KitchenAid, trying to fully open my eyes.  We all know how far I've come with this coffee cake recipe, so I wasn't expecting any difficulties despite the early time.

The coffee cake was successfully in the oven.  I could almost feel myself wrapped back up in my covers, ready to drift off for a cat nap before officially having to wake up.  I was so close, and then I discovered I couldn't get the flat beater off the mixer.  No matter how hard I tried, that beater was convinced it needed to stay on.  Thinking it was because I'm really bad at thoroughly cleaning, my attempts became more feeble as I assumed the mixture had dried around it.  I fought for as long as my tired self would let me, but I eventually gave up and crawled back into bed.

Right before I left, I decided to try another plan of attack:

It reads: HELP!  I'm stuck and need a big, strong man to save me!

He's opened plenty of jars for me in the past, so I figured he'd help me without a problem.  I was right.  I was really right.  He sent me a text during rehearsal telling me that it wasn't stuck in the first place.  My 4:30 brain was convinced otherwise.  It's just proof that I should never wake up that early in order to be nice to others ever again.

I need to take a nap.  But before I do that, I'm going to finish eating this potato salad and watching Hot Rod.  Good grief.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Lesson #56: I'm Still Adjusting

I've hinted at it before, so allow me to definitively state the following: housework and I are not friends.

Unless the dog hair becomes so much that I'm grossed out enough to clean or we have company coming over, I'd rather wallow in "filth."  I don't mean rats running around our rotting food on the floor, but I do mean clean and unfolded laundry sitting in its basket for a week.  I mean dirty dishes piling up because I don't want to unload the clean dishes from the dishwasher.  You know, that kind of "filth."  I will say that I ironed a pair of pants and a shirt for Lyndon this morning, but that was only because he had an evaluation at work today.

I desire to fill my free time with things like Skyrim and Doctor Who.  If I'm cleaning, I can't fully enjoy those things.  Therefore, cleaning makes little sense to me.

The realization is finally hitting me: cleaning is never going to stop.  There's always going to be something that I have to do.  No matter how modern society attempts to be, we have an unspoken understanding that I'm mainly in charge of cleaning and he's mainly in charge of bringing home the bacon.  He's always taken full responsibility for that duty, yet I'm a total slacker.  My duties are so much easier compared to him, but I'm the one who lays about procrastinating.

I still need to vacuum, but I did pause Doctor Who to put some week-old basket laundry away.

On an unrelated note, this company thought we were dumb enough to buy things from their catalogue for Nala, so they sent us a copy.

If I don't get to order whatever I want from the Anthropologie catalogue, she doesn't get whatever she wants from here (which I'm sure is the dog equivalent of Anthropologie...or something).  Petco is just fine for her fancy butt.