Define: “Managing”

This past Saturday was the first full day with Mom and Dad out of the country. I’m still recovering from it.

The girls and I entered the weekend with all of the optimism we could muster and attempted to treat this upcoming…adventure…like an opportunity. So we got pizza and movies Friday night.

One of those movies was San Andreas, which none of us had yet seen, and I’m putting part of the blame for my lack of sleep on that. I don’t know why I repeatedly subject myself to thriller and disaster movies; they’re way too intense for me to handle without crying, shrieking, and/or throttling a pillow.

Our pizza was an extra large, ordered in the hopes that we might have some yummy leftovers Saturday, but that plan failed. Since then we’ve also jointly consumed one 120 count bag of pizza rolls and most of a tub of ice cream.

And we still have a week to go. My list for after work includes a trip to the video store and picking up frozen waffles.

Saturday came and went with precious little accomplished outside of keeping everyone and everything alive and Jo doing her laundry. Nina and I spent two hours running errands which would have taken 30 minutes (and cost considerably less) had we an actual plan and grocery list. I glared at my growing piles of laundry and the dirty rug which is the evidence of my dog’s continual shedding; then I cuddled with Jo on Mom and Dad’s bed and watched The Giver.

Saturday night and all through Sunday, we dealt with some issues related to Gram which resulted in me staying home from evening church so we didn’t have to take her. More movies, more pizza rolls, and another late night.

On the bright side, in addition to watching several movies, I also read an entire book*. On the down side, I think I may be getting sick. I had the hardest time focusing at work – thankfully I’m not overrun with projects right now – and wanted nothing more than to go home, dig out some comfy clothes, and cuddle my dog.

Jo gave Nina a mini pep talk Sunday night about what needs to be accomplished around the house before the parentals return. I listened and nodded sagely while I wrote up my own mental to-do list. I’ll be satisfied if I complete 50% of what’s on it, which probably will not include gutting the pots-and-pans cabinet while I have the advantage of Mom being out of the country. My mother doesn’t hoard much, but she’s a sucker for specialized kitchen appliances and dishes.

So we’re all surviving still (thank goodness for punching bags and coloring books), but tensions are already running rather high and we’ve all snapped once or twice at each other already. Additionally, Jo and I keep trading glances and muttering, “I can’t wait until I move out, I can’t wait until I move out.” No offense to Mom and Dad, but at present there are few things I desire more than living in my own space with only myself and my dog, fish, and a few plants to be responsible for. I am very glad that they had the chance to go on this trip, and I don’t want them to worry about us, but….

 

*That book was The Only Pirate at the Party by Lindsey Stirling. Had I not taken on a 2016 reading challenge involving “a book by a celebrity” (a hip hop violinist is the closest I wanted to get to “celebrity”), I probably never would have read this, and I would have seriously missed out on something brilliant. Only the best books convince me to sacrifice sleep, and this was one of them. Well-written, enthralling, honest, funny, quirky, and inspiring. I just might have to buy my own copy; it helps that the cover is so bright.

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