Saturday, March 26, 2011

Earth Hour is not Earth Day, Quinn




Earth Hour last year.



Earth Hour this year.







This morning brought my worst rain commute yet. I was all about my Earth Hour bath plan. Only mentioned it to one co-worker before I made a note to self: remember, don’t talk about baths with new work acquaintances. Apparently, I’m still learning about private and public thoughts, completely flexible in my ability to neglect to speak up or belt out something in the better-left-unsaid category . . . doh!



Beautiful idea though - I highly recommend making yourself spend an hour in a bath. I brought mineral water and a pot of coffee, a mug, mags, my phone, my camera, 23 candles, and a lighter. But mostly I let my thoughts pass. Good times. And all it took was a helpful text from the tub to get Quinn and her dad to drink their wine in the dark.



What a difference a bath can make. Not much relaxation and exercise for me these days. That's so before fulltime job. A whole month. I was practically twitching from stress when I walked through the door this evening. Well, part of the twitching came from my Eminem-wannabe downstairs neighbor. I’ve been listening to 8 Mile for a few months now. Last night was the party debut of his recordings, right here beneath my apartment. The floor thumping was in full effect when I returned from work tonight, but by some Earth Hour miracle, disappeared just when I settled into the bath. (Because I find him annoying, he'll probably be on some show like American Idol or Best Hiphop Artist Ever. I better instruct him on the importance of a solid backup plan.)



Now, more work and cleaning. When the kids aren’t here, it's like my parents just let me out of their home. Don’t clean up anything except coffee accessories. Stack to-go containers on the stove. Don't make the bed. Never put the laundry in the hamper. Then, when the kids are due back, I’m madly sorting and shining everything up, clipping recipes, and tying on my imaginary apron.The kids would probably prefer that I let the cleaning slide when they’re with me. But, you know, they bug me too sometimes.

 

No comments:

Post a Comment