The incredible shrinking weekend…

I had a weekend around here somewhere.  I have no idea where it went to, but it left some footprints when it passed through.  I know it circled around, and I know it left a brand new Rasta hat (in J chosen colors) and fresh cotton sheets on the beds.  It also left what looks like an embankment of clean laundry in the hallway that leads to the pantry.  The weekend (mean, bad, evil, wicked weekend…) took an hour away from us and left us all in a bad mood.  Nothing like one less hour of sleep to make (even those who have been waxing poetic and dancing little jigs about Daylight Savings Time) into ogres.

It is now Monday and noon is approaching (not like Carl Sandburg’s Fog “on little cat feet”, but rather wearing muddy combat boots and stomping about) and I’ve yet to fold one piece of clothing.  In my defense, none of it looks like it wants to be folded…and I don’t want to upset the garments by forcing them into positions that they are, as of this moment, unwilling to assume.  That’s my reasoning…I’m being altruistic here.

J’s mood has improved and mine has taken a nosedive.  I think it has something to do with one less hour of life (thank you, clock that I never had to really worry about until I moved to a country with time zones) and trying to catch up to the choreography of the existence that surrounds us while the rest of the dance company refuses to cooperate.  “Really?  You’ve all been WAITING for stupid Daylight Savings Time and woo hoo more sunshine and woo hoo the sun and woo hoo it’s almost spring and then comes summer and now you’re BITCHING about it????”  When they thought I was out of earshot the grumbling that had been directed at each other turned on to me; I am strong, I am invincible…I am woman…hear me annoy the men in my household.

Hopefully, now that the weekend is over and we are forced (by time and tide, who wait for no man) to fall into the rhythm of life as it is prescribed by employers and the educational system et al, I will sound less like Daffy Duck and I will find myself once more in the good graces of those who, by virtue of being male and ill-equipped to think as I do, consider my exertions hyperbolic.  They are dreading Spring Cleaning (yes, capitalized!) as I was dreading Daylight Savings Time; they know that I will turn the whole place upside down with vigor that can only compare to the one I expend in Fall Cleaning.  Until this is completed, even if I’ve undergone my Daffy Duck to Mary Poppins transformation, I will be looked at like I’m on the brink of having a meltdown.

The year is moving quickly.  At every turn, we see its progress.  (Are those buds on the trees?  Do we now see more and more bees on the bushes?  Why are they already selling bathing suits at the store????)  The cats have started to shed and J is eyeing the plastic crates in which we store the summer clothes with curiosity.  Our shopping expedition on Friday yielded no green cargo pants in his size; perhaps the realization of this fact will make him more pliable to the idea of exercise and weight-loss.  I seriously doubt that any of the clothes that fit him last summer will still be part of his summer wardrobe.  The store where he likes to buy his shorts is about an hour away…my heart feels with dread at the thought of this.

Look at that…noon has passed me by.  I’ve been thinking of that lost hour, of the piles of things I have to do, of the taxes I’ve yet to develop enough courage to work on…and I’ve actually zoned out while sitting here writing this entry.  Time to actually get up and do something other than worry about all I have to do…

The new Rasta hat will be home in a few hours…the (thankfully) jolly kid that goes with it will be here, too…  We have a plastic greenhouse to work on…we can go for a walk…and he can hum his old Disney Johnny Appleseed song as we go along…

There you go…the day has expanded…

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