monday, monday

Mondays are crazy here at Lemony Villa. Every day is kind of crazy here at Lemony Villa, but Monday always seems to be the craziest. I used to think it was because it was the first day back into the real world of school/work after two mornings/days of sleeping later than usual and not being slaves to a shedule. Makes sense, right?

Sure. But that isn't it.

After much thought and even more of me going through each room of the house muttering "oh, look, an empty cup...whose sock is THIS?...what the heck is THAT doing THERE?" I've realized Mondays are only crazy for me. Why? Because I'm the one here after the rest of them are gone, and Monday happens to fall after Saturday and Sunday. You know, those days when everybody is here.ALL.the.time.

How four people (because, of course, I'm not including myself) can wreak such utter havoc on a house in two days is totally beyond me, but they do it. I'm on them to take care of their stuff, and to their credit they listen (most of the time), but damn. There's always a forgotten fruit roll-up wrapper in the family room. An errant sock on the floor in the playroom. Dishes from Sunday night snacks in the sink. Laundry I didn't find the time to keep up with thanks to gymnastics meets and soccer games.

I get home from the bus stop on Monday mornings, grab for the coffee pot and see this:

A weekend's worth of mail, stacks of paper sent home from three different schools, all needing attention and a signature, the catalogs I meant to look through wanting a head start on Christmas shopping, waivers for sports, the books I've been dying to get to...or at least put away...for weeks.

The desk doesn't look much better.

Neither does my bathroom. Do we shower more on the weekends or something? Because my bathroom looks like a hair bomb exploded in there. It's kind of gross.

So, I Swiffer. I restack things. I pick up fruit roll-up wrappers and socks. I do laundry and go grocery shopping. The dog watches me, usually with a toy in her mouth, waiting for me to play with her.

"It's Monday," I tell her.

She'll watch me for a few more minutes, but she eventually goes off to find something else to do.

Is it wrong to be jealous of my mutt?? Because after Swiffering the remnants of that hairbomb out of the bathroom, I just can't seem to help myself.

Harumph.