In which a morning person is entirely too satisfied with herself

I would just like to say, Internet, that I really enjoyed my day off. Thank you, Martin Luther King, Jr.! (And did anyone watch the Golden Globes last night? I particularly enjoyed how they hauled out a cheery Queen Latifah to quell any MLK-related uneasiness. The top two weekend movies are about African-Americans! Yay Progress! MLK would be so proud. Now drink up, movie stars, so you can entertain me with your sloshy acceptance speeches!)

Anyway, I enjoyed my day off so much that I think I should make it permanent. I don't really need to work five days a week. Does anybody out there work four tens? Does it kill you? Does that one day off make the early mornings or late evenings all worthwhile?

And it's not like I was sitting around all day. No no no. First, I got up when Phillip did and finished my homework. That's right, I have homework. I had to make three or four web pages, upload them to the school server, validate the code and email the links to my teacher. (And you guys, I am so disgustingly proud of myself. You have no idea. I make Phillip look at everything. I am totally not intimidated, even though Chapter 2 encompassed absolutely everything I know about web design. Upon closer examination it appears that subsequent chapters will be competing for the chance to kick my butt, but that work-from-home plan, it is coming along nicely.) Then I cleaned up my room (which is also the guest room, and where my sister was going to sleep that night) (which I completely rearranged Friday night when I got home from work, because I am crazy) and then I went to clean up Phillip's room. Which is a bit like being four years old and wandering around the Crown Jewels. DO NOT TOUCH! signs are flashing everywhere. Except there was a whole lot in that room that was MINE (senior seminar research papers, anyone? binders and binders full of photocopied poetry? notebooks and notebooks full of humiliating and horrifically bad poetry written by yours truly? what about my four or five short story class anthologies? anyone?) so I had to drag all that stuff upstairs. (And, um, throw it away. Which was painful. Because I am a sentimental "I might need to read this again!" dork.) Phillip's room is the official Office in the house, and the command center for all things TiVo- and internet-related, so it's gotta be in working order. It's also the only room (excluding the garage) where anything can be stored, and we were wasting so much space. But after I cleaned it out, I was afraid to put things away. Or organize in the slightest. There are four empty shelves now, but the only thing they house is a giant box of miscellaneous cords and gadgets and wires and plug thingies and had I dared to throw any of those things away, I'm sure the God of Nerddom would have smited me within seconds.

Then I boxed up the toys I rescued this summer from my mother, the Evil Almost Thrower Away Of The Cabbage Patch Doll, and put them in the garage. But I had to reorganize the garage before the box would fit. And there are all sorts of interesting things in the garage and of course I had to inspect all of them and put them in their proper and rightful places. Gah.

So no, there was no sleeping in or eating ice cream in my pajamas or watching whatever horrible movie is on at 9 a.m. Monday morning- I was WORKING. It was HARD. Have you SEEN Phillip's office? It is CRAZY. There are, like, fourteen computers hiding underneath that monster desk, and two gargantuan monitors and a filing cabinet from 1974. There are two bookshelves full of college junk, work junk and MCSE junk and twelve tons of amps, bass guitars, saxaphones and their accessories under the stairs.

And oh, it was lovely. That's what I need from my mornings: Productivity!

Then I realized I was totally exhausted and climbed into bed with a bowl of soup and watched 20 minutes of an Hercule Poirot before I fell asleep. And when I woke up, it was only one in the afternoon. Excellent! Think of how neat and clean our lives would be if only I had every Monday off!

And now you are all, "I am totally going to stop reading this blog because the cheery anal retentiveness is threatening to spill out of the monitor and infect me with the crazy."

[On an unrelated note: today I have to buy a new hair dryer because my old hair dryer has successively blown out (ha! get it! BLOWN out!) the electrical outlets in all three bathrooms. Which we did not fix until last night, when the guy who built the house came over and and reconnected things (and also stuck the soap dish back on the shower wall, because it just Fell. Off.) And he was really nice, with all the calming down of the Totally Inept Homeowners Who Don't Know The Right Word For That Concrete-Like Stuff Between The Tiles.  And oh, that is us. But then he was asking Phillip about downloading something from iTunes and how it wouldn't work and Phillip said he needed to do this and that and maybe change something in the registry and he just looked at us like, "Um, no." "The way you feel about the electric panel," he said, "is how I feel about the word 'registry'." And you know, that made us feel a mite better.]

Comments

[jackie]

"twelve tons of amps, bass guitars, saxaphones and their accessories under the stairs. "

We have an entire room for this. From my chair, I can see one stand-up bass, a trombone on its stand, two electric basses, a giant bass amp + cabinet, an electronic keyboard, an acoustic guitar, and of course, my violin and viola.

*sigh* we need to buy a for-real house just to keep our menagerie of instruments.

[jackie]

oops. I forgot the electric guitar in its case. See?