Procrastinating....'Til The Cows Come Home

I was up in Old Lyme yesterday and stopped at Tiffany Farm to see the cows. They make me laugh. Our dogs love the good ol' farm smells so they were content in the car while I got out of the car to visit the cows. Yes. Visit. Mooooooooo.

Maybe I was procrastinating. I knew what was waiting for me at home....the ongoing laundry loads, clean up and computer work. Wooohooo. Motivated? I think not. The sunshine and blue skies teased me. The cows called my name.

News flash. I've been cleaning all week. Okay, I'm showing off. I want to shout from the highest mountain...I was cleaning! Seriously, it's hard work...and it never ends. Help. Yes. I have a sensitive new age husband who does help. Remember...equal opportunity parenting? That goes for cleaning too. BUT he can escape. He goes to an office.

A friend had just had her second baby...her toddler asked where daddy was going when he had to go back to work...my friend answered in a sing song voice,"Honey, daddy's going on vacation...he's going to Pfizer." Yes. it seems that way. Even though we have teens today, sometimesI have those same sentiments as I see my husband walk...I mean skips....out the door...to his safe haven.

I know. I'm grateful to be at home with our kids. I chose this life. I get some help from our kids. It's not the same. They're distracted. I ask them to take out the garbage. They do. They just forget to put the lid on. The dog sees that as invitation to dinner at The Ritz in Paris....even with my cooking. I get some help, but nobody cares like me. It's like our children....nobody loves them like we do. Nobody cares about dust bunnies like I do. The dust bunnies could be tripping them, and they'd keep walking. The sink could be piled high and they'd use a paper plate rather than push the start button on the dishwasher.

I was at the bank the other day, and the twenty something banker asked me my profession. Surely he was kidding...I was wearing my sneakers, my hair was spilling out of a hair clip, I had paint on my hands (and probably legs) and wearing the cologne of Scrubbing Bubbles. Housewife? Yes, I'm having an affair with our house. It's not working out.And another thing, I never knew how hard it was to clean a toilet bowl. Whoever invented that was crazy...you need an octopus to get around the outside. How about a rectangle? Just sayin'. It's not something my mother taught me. Shopping, yes. Cleaning, no.

My mom had a maid. I loved her...alot. Our family loved her. Besides the fact that she was the most loving woman in the world, how could you not love her? She did the vacuuming! My mom jinxed me with vacuuming. When she vacuumed, she had a love/hate relationship with her vacuum cleaner. The Karma continues.

I've been married almost twenty years and we've had more vacuums pass through these doors than I could have imagined. It reminds me of dating days with the wrong guy... in the beginning it's exciting and fresh and hopeful! I just want to show it off. Look at what a great vacuum I found! Look at how well built it is! He can do anything! He's incredible. He brings me presents! Look at his moves. 

Then the flaws start to show up....he forgets to call...he's a workaholic...he's tired...he's sarcastic...he's set in his ways...he's just no fun. Done. Give him the boot. Same for my vacuums. It's all fun and games til it gets clogged with a number 2 pencil. It's not as versatile as I thought. The vacuum bags are hard to find. It's heavy to carry up the stairs. It sucks...literally...just not enough. Another one bites the dust. No tears are shed, just money. Next time, I swear I'll know the signs. I'll ask people if they know of one. Again and again, I'm fooled by love at first sight. Until I meet THE one...they say, you know when you know. That was true with my husband...the vacuum? Not so much.

So now that I've stopped to see the cows graze and groom and mooooooo, I'm ready (am I really ever ready?) to get a move on and clean. I've checked my e-mails, written some e-mails, written this blog post....oh wait, I have to walk the dogs....til' the cows come home...but first, I'll throw in another load of laundry.