In My Mind I Am On the Beach With a Book
One of the best things about vacation is not having to set the alarm clock. Right ? So naturally I have been up since 4:30, unable to stop making lists in my head of things to be done this week. I am pretty sure the week, which from my current vantage point looks like a long stretch of time which I will utilize with amazing efficiency, will in fact not be anywhere near enough time to get everything done. Unless I block Facebook. I am pretty sure that come this time next Saturday I will be saying to myself, "where did the time go?" Actually this time next week I hope to be asleep, but we'll see.
Getting the lists, which at the moment are more like the message board outside a building I see in New York City, where the news feed just loops around again and again, from my head and onto paper will go far in helping me get things accomplished. Paper? Or the always in my pocket iPhone? Maybe both. Double the work , but I am not sure I am entirely ready to go without a hard copy. I suppose I could put the list on my laptop and somehow load it onto my phone, but that just sounds like more than I can conquer in the week.
The vacation would be better if Sarcasdad was sharing it with me. For years we went away this week in December to celebrate our anniversary. This year will be number number 37. Last year we decided that all the relaxation was great while it lasted which was about until the plane landed and we realized we only had three weeks til Christmas.
It is a good thing we had no plans to travel this year since time and money is being spent on the new sewer pipe and the destruction and renovating of the basement. Sarcasdad spent his vacation housebound while workmen came and went. The project was supposed to completed in a week. ( I can hear you all snickering now). The plumber would come do his thing, the carpenter would come do his thing, the plumber would come back and finish up, and then all would be right with the world. The plumber, who we have used forever, came and did his thing. The carpenter , well we inherited him from the plumber. He came. The destruction part was swift. The rebuilding, not so much. He showed up for two of the three days he was supposed to be here. He was astounded to learn that Sarcasdad was not a man of leisure and therefore would not be lolling around the house to let him come and go at will. Imagine that. He has to work for a living. Since then it has been a day here and there. We have learned that when he says he will be here at 10, he really means he may be here around 11:30. Or not at all, which we find out after we call him. One day he couldn't come because his helper was not available. So he comes on a rare Sunday to make up. He was here for a whopping three hours, half of which involved him unloading and loading various pieces of equipment from his truck. I am not sure if he even used them all. He brought his son along to be his helper, and he, while polite was as obviously thrilled as you would expect any young man his age to be, being out of bed and laboring at 9 am on Sunday morning. His assistance consisted of being sent from the basement to the yard to do or get something. After poking around a bit he would yell down the to his father, that he couldn't find it, and his father would ascend the steps and do whatever needed doing. Heck, I could have done that. Next time the helper calls out I'm there. That Sunday was better than this past Sunday when he was here for a whopping 45 minutes.( sans helper) On Wednesday he didn't show and when Sarcasdad called him the carpenter said it was because of the rain. Not at all sympathetic, Sarcasdad assured him he wouldn't melt so the carpenter came, but was about as enthusiastic as his son was on Sunday.
I am told he will be here this Sunday to wrap it up. I am dubious. I am also not telling him I am on vacation this week. I have so rarely had to deal with independent contractors, having been blessed with people in my life who are handy and hard working. I have heard stories though, and apparently people really weren't exaggerating.
Time to make the lists. Wish me luck.
I Mean It
The CP and I were playing. He, he proclaimed, was Prince Charming, and I was Snow White, whom he had awakened with a kiss. I know, he had mixed up his Disney princesses , but who hasn't.
After a bit my prince requested that I portray the wicked queen. The bad girls are always more fun so I was glad to comply. I had only gotten in a cackle or two when the prince determined that the queen's less than amicable personality was probably due to a lack of successful inter-personal relationships. He said, he would be my friend and then I wouldn't be mean anymore.
A bit later Sarcas-dad passed through the kingdom and asked what we were doing. "Well" replied the prince, "me, and the Un-Mean Queen here are coloring".
The Un-Mean Queen. I love it. That' s my next blog. You know, when this one gets filled up.