My Mom wants to clean my house and I don't.
I'm not in the mood. And I refuse to be forced into manual labor at 10:19 on a Saturday morning.
So I'm putting my foot down. Or to be more exact, sitting on my ass to write this post while drinking a cup of coffee from my chocolate brown big girl mug.
Unfortunately this isn't going to last long for two reasons...
1. My Mother is on the phone talking to Ken.
2. Break time is over the moment she hangs up the phone.
And just for good measure...
3. Have you met my Mother?
I love the woman but honestly, she's got a one track mind that when set in motion does not deter from its predetermined course. Ever.
Normally this would be a most excellent trait. And for the most part, it is. It's just not my favorite trait at this exact moment when what I really want to do is a whole lot of nothing much at all.
I'm thirty-three and I'm feeling seven, getting ready to be sent to my room for bad behavior.
Aha!
Saved by the bell. Or to be exact, Brenda ringing my cell. And if she's ringing, it can only mean one thing...
There's something she doesn't feel like doing either!
This is Stacey. Over, out and off to the rescue...
1 comment:
In my defense, I have to "do something" when under stress to keep from coming apart...cleaning is (for me) a way to let some of the stress out...and to tell the truth, I thought you'd like your apartment to have some sense of order and yes it was over the top to set up folders on your computer for your favorites...
In the meantime, I remain trapped in "doing" and constant movement to meet self imposed deadlines...if ever I needed a vacation, it will be when this "vacation" ends...
I remain as always, your biggest fan and your adoring mother.
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