for the soul of my husband. He will be rejoining you and the hosts of angels sooner than he thinks.
Before I begin the public flogging of the man, I would like to acknowledge that I do have the best husband in the universe. He takes care of me, he carries on the job of mom and dad when I am curled up in a ball in the corner sucking my thumb, and he never EVER is critical of me. Why, do you ask, am I about to rant and rave like a madwoman in public then? Because it’s good material. And because he once announced in church, during his talk one Sunday, OVER. THE. PULPIT. that I am not a good housekeeper. Seriously, you could hear the collective gasp of the men, women, and children for miles around. They didn’t even hear the rest of his talk because they all spent the rest of the meeting praying for him and hoping he would survive the aftermath. It’s just too bad that they didn’t know that aftermath would come four years later.
So, the other day I notice that the flotsam and jetsam of nature is no longer floating atop the water’s surface in the pool and is now residing on the bottom. The other day, it was also nice and dry, sunny even!!, unlike the previous seven days and the three (going on five) days since. I asked Honey to make sure that he emptied the pool baskets and scooped up the debris so the filters won’t get clogged and jacked up beyond repair because we no longer have that fabulous home warranty that includes pool repairs. I came home from running errands to see B sweeping for something at the bottom of the pool and figured Honey had done the important parts and let the kiddos do the rest since they’re always jumping at the bit to do anything involving the pool.
I figured wrong.
You see, I noticed the pool sweep was sweeping but not picking anything up. Not wanting to burn out the pump’s motor or jack anything else up, I head out in the rain, to go through with the net real quick and make sure nothing big is getting in the way.
OOPS. Silly me, I forgot that somehow the 12 ft. long handle had become detached from the net and was now lying at the bottom of the pool!! Ok, no big, I’ll throw one of the kids in the next time they get in trouble and they can fish it out for me. I’ll just empty those baskets real quick and head back in.
I thought Big Foot had had a baby and drowned it in my skimmer basket!! So I plunge my hands into the freezing ice cold water to fish the blob of tree dandruff out and discover it’s rock-freakin’-solid there’s so much crap in there!! So I dig around and dig around for the basket handle (because last fall I discovered that yes, you do need to replace those baskets if they are cracked even just a little) which is nowhere to be seen… or felt. I pull out the equivalent of three newborns in tree crud only to find out THE BASKET IS NOT EVEN IN THERE. Son of a…. Great. I’ll just go find the garage sale putter and whack open the other thingy and empty that basket. Whoops again! Dad thought it was a good idea to throw it away because the boys were beating each other with it. Ok, I’ll just grab a heavy rock and whack it open. Nope. Did I mention it was raining? A lot??? Ok, maybe that big slat from the half-barrel planter that fell apart will do the trick! GUESS AGAIN.
I grab this GI-NORMOUS paving square, heavier than both my cankles, and use it to whack the lid open. I can’t even begin to describe what I found in there because I am out of xanax and I feel an attack coming on.
I emptied the basket, whacked it clean (why do the holes have to be so small? And why is there so much grass in there when we don’t even have a lawn???), and came back into the house cursing a blue streak under my breath so as not to scald my children’s virgin ears. Soaking wet. It’s been 45 minutes and my fingers are still cold.
Lest you think you can now breathe a sigh of relief now that my flogging is done, fear not… I have tidings of great joy!
Chelsea, my beloved pet, found it too inconvenient to go outside to poo so she left me a present. Right. next. to. the. open. door. At least it was on tile and not carpet!
But that’s not all! The boys had an appointment with their therapist today at 4:00. I took them to their meds appointment yesterday, and their skills class, and I homeschool one of the little crumb-snatchers, and I had class today. So I begged, and Honey took them for me. He called a little bit ago to say that they did not have the boys scheduled today or any other day.
Then who sent me the reminder text last night?
Ok. You can relax now. I’m only 75 minutes late getting dinner started. A girl’s got to have her priorities, right?
p.s. We are not going to Pack Meeting tonight. Hellooooo…. American Idol? Still in the auditions phase? PRI-OR-ITIES!!!