I have been putting off the laundry. This is nothing new. I hate doing the laundry. There is nothing I like about it - wait, I like it when it is finished. That is all. Usually I let the clothing bins in my closet get full-to-bursting. Then when the small room starts to smell like dirty socks, I know it is time to do the laundry.
It is almost that time. Today I spent a full minute digging around in my unmentionables drawer looking for a clean pair of underpants. I knew there had to be one more in there somewhere, (please don't let me be out of underpants, I thought). And there at the bottom of the drawer, winking at me prettily, was the gorgeous peridot earring that I had lost months ago. I knew it was in my closet somewhere, I dropped it while standing there by the dresser in the closet and I could not find it anywhere. I have been over the floor with a flashlight on hands and knees, I have dug in all the drawers looking and always giving up saying "I'll find it at some point." Today was the day. So there. Everything really does happen for a reason. I put off the laundry, letting my top drawer get dangerously low on unmentionables and voila, I found my precious earring.
BTW, my mom is coming over on Friday to play with Jackson while I am at work. If I can only find enough underpants to get me through the week, I bet she will do a couple of loads for me while I am out. Mom loves laundry and she always looks for a load to do while she is here. Is is wrong to hold out, knowing she is coming over?
Yes, I am sure it is. But I am going to do it anyway. Thanks Mom.
I have been going through a blogger depression lately. I just haven't felt like writing. I have been sick for a week, lost my voice, cursed my sinuses and am now feeling human again. And I have had so many doctors appointments in the last month, I am tired of it all. I just haven't wanted to write anymore about blood draws and new meds and all the other stuff involved in trying to get my health and my life back in line post cancer. And the bills and their errors that I spend time on the phone sorting out. I guess I didn't want to get on here and complain. I heard it said once that bloggers complain a lot. And I don't want to be like that.
So here are a few Jackson gems. A few days ago Jackson broke a glass tea candle holder. I have no idea how, I was in the kitchen and he came in from the living room holding the broken glass and shards. "I broke this, mama," he said. So I quickly had him throw the glass away and rinsed his hands to get the small bits off. But I must have missed the fact that he was cut a tiny bit, because he came back in a few minutes later with blood smeared on his hands. "Mama, what is all this red stuff," he asked. It occurred to me he has rarely bled in his 3 1/2 years. Is this a testament to my mothering skills that my son doesn't know what blood is and isn't addicted to band aids?
Jackson has also taken to telling me funny jokes. He says they are funny jokes not me. Here is an example:
Jackson: Mama, I'm gonna tell you a funny joke.
Me: Ok, go ahead.
Jackson: What do you pick off trees and put in a basket?
Jackson: Fruit hahahahahahaha
He doesn't know you aren't supposed to laugh at your own joke. I am pretty sure he makes these up as he goes along. Usually they are about cars. "What drives on the road and crashes into a tree? Cars! Hahahahahaha! Comedians, I swear.
Rehearsals are going well for Hay Fever. I am busy 4 or 5 days a week after work. I get home, quickly fix something to eat, drive to austin by 6:30 and come home just before 10. (And did I mention my sinus infection and loss of voice for 3 days? So don't give me any crap about the laundry, ok?)
Speaking of me not speaking for a few days, I have to say that my husband is so sweet. Instead of being happy not to have to hear my voice as would be the expected husbandly response, he kept telling me how much it sucked not to have anyone to talk to and that the house was all "quiet and sad" and that he hated me not being able to talk. Such a sweetheart. And he even forgives the laundry monster threatening to take over our closet. (Can you see I am unable to stop thinking about the laundry that I really, really don't want to do, but desperately need to?)