A Thrill A Minute

Hula is on vacation this week, whereas vacation equals exciting adventures such as taking down Christmas decorations, cleaning house and cleaning and reorganizing the pantry.

Hula thinks she needs to plan a little Caribbean action next year. Oh, wait! She did! Although it might not be nearly as exciting as those six bags of elbow macaroni she discovered today in the pantry.

The Sky is Falling, The Sky is Falling

Brothers and sisters, if you are not right with the Lord you need to get right. The end is coming soon. Of this I am sure. How do I know? Yesterday I came home from work to find that my darling 15-year daughter, without any prompting by an adult, had cleaned out and organized one of my kitchen cabinets. I kid you not. If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'. See?

By the way, those Dove chocolates are NOT mine. I promise. I don't like dark chocolate. Not one tiny bit. Now, milk chocolate is an entirely different thing. I can't tell you why I have two bags of lentils, either. And can you tell we are mandarin orange freaks? Anyway, she cleaned, sorted, tossed and organized until it looked all neat and tidy. She even thought about alphabetizing the canned goods but knew that system wouldn't last with me, so she refrained from doing so. Whew! Thank goodness I dodged that bullet.

She says she was looking for something, couldn't find it because of all the clutter and started cleaning out of frustration, which is the only way I'm ever prompted to clean a cabinet, so I completely understand her reasoning. I just can't believe it. That's why I'm a little concerned that the rapture is near. Let's face it. It has to be one of these reasons:

A. The end is near as I just mentioned

B. She inherited her father's annoying OCD tidy gene and it is just now surfacing

C. She wants something and she's buttering me up

D. We are not complete failures as parents and she is maturing nicely

Well, she hasn't asked for anything yet and she is incredibly sloppy in other ways, so I don't think the answer is B or C. D doesn't seem plausible either since we screw up in our parental duties on a regular basis. It has to be A. So get down on your knees, brothers and sisters, and repent of your sins. Say some Hail Mary's, summon the Dahli Lama, rub Buddah's belly or do whatever you need to do to get ready. Ice crystals are forming at Satan's palace as we speak.

By the way, Teen Angel got a big hug and kiss over this one. I love that child. Have I mentioned that lately?

"List"less

I'm not really very good about making new year's resolutions. I just get a whim to do something at some point in the year and try to be disciplined enough to make it happen. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm an all or nothing gal. Either I throw my whole being into something or I leave it untouched. Frankly, on this last day of vacation I don't feel like touching anything. I had to peel myself out of the recliner just to type this. If lazy were a sport, I would have won a gold medal by lunchtime today. Tomorrow it's back to the grindstone and no more slacking off about important things like nutrition, laundry and hygiene. Shucks, I'll even have to put on real clothes tomorrow.

I have some general goals for the year like taking good care of myself and increasing my mileage when I run. It seems kind of silly to write those down. However, I do have a lot of little things I've been putting off that I should resolve to take care of this year. Those will require some diligence because they are all things I'd rather not do. Most of them involve cleaning. Blech. You know how I excel at that. (Insert insane laughter here.) I've put this stuff off long enough, so I suppose I should put on my big girl britches and get cracken' on it. I'm making a list, so I won't forget any of this stuff. Strap on your seatbelt, and here we go.

1. Clean out my sock drawer and throw away anything with holes, stains and lack of a mate. Anything bought before 1993 should go. The sixteen pair of tights in multiple colors should go. After all, winter walking shorts went out of style several years ago.
2. Figure out how to use the new vaccum cleaner.
3. Use the new vaccum cleaner.
4. Get rid of the colony of dust bunnies that have built condos under our bed.
5. Clean out my underwear drawer. Throw out anything that is ripped, stretched or faded. Anything bought before 1993 should go. Okay, 1992. That was the year I got the great deal on the Jockey three pack of briefs at J.C. Penney's.
6. Buy some pretty underwear, not the Hanes cotton value pack I've been married to for the last ten years.
7. Clean out the three junk drawers in the kitchen. REALLY clean them, not just shuffle the stuff around.
8. Wash the curtains in the bathroom since the dust is making them look mauve instead of red.
9. Clean out my shoe cubicle in the dressing room. Get rid of anything that pinches, squeezes, squeaks or slips. If they haven't been worn in two years they should go. This includes the twenty pair of flip-flops crammed in various corners.
10. On a day when I'm feeling very brave....clean out the drawer in the bathroom vanity. It will take me until October to work up the courage for that one.

I'll stop now. It's making me stressed just thinking about all of the cleaning on that list. I wouldn't want to wipe out the effects of my vacation. I'll go rest now and get started on that list tomorrow....Friday at the latest. Or maybe Monday.

Is that Pie Over There?

Well, I can't linger long. Company's coming. Supercop and his girlfriend are coming over for dinner, which means I need to clean. And you know how I hate to clean. It's time to tackle the stuff I've been avoiding for days: the inside of the microwave (did someone blow up a gerbil in there?), the ceiling fan in the kitchen, the front of the kitchen cabinets (who spilled the grape juice and didn't clean it up?) and the dust bunnies under the sofa. Geez. I hate this. I'd rather be eating bon bons and polishing my toenails than cleaning house. Actually, I'd rather take a beating than clean house. Oh, well. It's for a good reason, and I needed something to motivate me to do it. If it were just Supercop coming I'd blow it off and not worry about it. However, we've not met the new girlfriend, and I'd hate for her to think that I never dust under the sofa, or that my microwave always looks like something blew up in it or that I don't wipe off my cabinets but once a year. People make judgements about you when they get their first look at your house. I could be in trouble if she looks closely. Maybe I can distract her with pie.