Looking back, I can pinpoint the exact moment things started to go horribly wrong. Me and my schedules. Honestly, you would think I would learn after all these years, but nope, oh no, uh uh, not me. I like things ordered and to go as planned. I like schedules: I will do this at that time and that at this time. HAH!
My Thursday started just like most days, with me stumbling out of bed, one eye closed, one half opened, fumbling with the patio door to let the dogs out. Scattered sunshine this morning. Cool, but the promise of a bit of warmth. The dogs come back in and I close the door after them. Too chilly yet to leave it open.
Time for cappuccino and the morning news. Canada wins Gold in Equestrian, Silver in diving; plane crash in Spain; human interest story about river dogs; another about a dog in South America finding a new-born human baby in a field and taking it home to look after with her 6 new puppies; time to change the channel. Wonder what Anna Olson is making this morning. Ooooh, Country Apple Pie. Yum!
Finally both eyes are open and focusing and out we go to the garden yard. Wandering about I check tomatoes in the mini-pea patch and note that one is ripe. Good, will save that for Rylan to pick on Saturday when she is here. Next I check the yellow Tumbling Tom and there are several mini tomatoes for her there. Time to roll up the beach mats and shower curtain on the garden boat. The plants are so thick in there that you can hardly see through it anymore. Lots of red Tumbling Tom tomatoes coming for Rylan too. Time to go back inside and finish tidying the living room.
Today my schedule is to make the beds in there for Hammond, Megan and Rylan. I am nearly finished with what I want to get done before they arrive this weekend. My schedule - and you know I LIVE for schedules - is working well: make up single bed; have Richard bring down futon sofa into living room and make it up; vacuum. On to kitchen: dust; organize; clean fridge; vacuum/wash floor. Bathroom: tidy; wash floor. Pantry: tidy; wash dishes; wash floor. On to bedroom and my bathroom: vacuum; make bed; dust; wash floors; clean windows - man are they dirty; clean dogs room, vacuum, wash floor.
But back to the beginning of my list: make bunk bed up...
...I start to move things around and off the bed. It is a catch-all for things-I-do-not-know-what-to-do-with-at-the-moment and now I HAVE to do something with. Put this there - gonna use this one - this can go upstairs - this in the back room. I notice something on the bed, looks like grass or maybe bits of leaf and wonder what Richard set on there the other day when we were doing the floor. Keep working. Move a pillow from the head of the bed and...WHAT THE HECK!!??? I make a triple scrunchy face with slitty eyes that move rapidly from side to side. Aw crap, and I mean that literally.
There is Mole People Poo allllll over the bed under the bags of bedding and the pillows I had sitting there and my schedule just went out the window. This means that ALL THE d****d bedding has to be stripped off the bed, oh and look, the little b*****d's chewed into the plastic bags holding the ALREADY CLEAN bedding so now everything has to be re-washed and the well is so low we can't wash it here which means SOMEONE HAS TO TAKE IT OUT TO THE LAUNDROMAT tomorrow and I have to shop for groceries and do last minute things...
...Richard wisely speaks calmly and softly to me, NOT making eye-contact - well that's what you do with a snarling, snapping dog, so those tactics work well with me - guiding me over to my chair and sitting me down, as I mutter madly about ****ing Mole People. Then he tells me not to worry, he will take all the bedding over to the laundromat and wash it for me right away. My blood pressure lowers slightly. He brings me an ice tea, patting my shoulder. Blood pressure lowers some more.
I go back over to the bed and re-group. No dirty little Mole People are going to defeat me!!! They never defeated me in the mini pea patch; they will NOT defeat me in the house. Harumph! Ok, the bags that have been chewed go to the laundromat; the blanket covering all the other bedding on the bed, carefully rolled up, into a garbage bag and into the garbage. No way am I picking off Mole People Poo. Bagged bedding that hasn't been touched by Mole People, onto the futon for now. Richard loads it up and leaves for the laundromat...a bit hastily I might add.
I press on, soon having the living room whipped into shape. Richard returns and I set to drying laundry. And drying laundry. And still drying laundry - 10 loads in all including the three that he had already done that morning before the Mole People Poo surfaced. Richard tells me that after washing the laundry, and while over at Walmart, he was informed that he has to work Friday afternoon, from 3 to 8pm. I had been counting on his help Friday. Now the last of my schedule is in
Dinner time arrives and we decide on take-out Teen Burgers from A & W. Good choice, levels out the old blood sugar really well. My schedule - HAH! - is shot to heck. I know that I won't get my room, the dog's room, or my bathroom vacuumed and tidied before Saturday. I know that, and I no longer care. I know that I won't get some outside things done...I don't care about that at this point either.
I did manage to get all the doggy nose prints and doggy spit off the inside of the patio door, with the exception of an 8 inch strip I left at the bottom. Why, you ask, did I leave a strip of dog nose prints at the bottom? Because, silly, if the glass door is too clean, and the dogs come racing up to it, as they are wont to do, they will think it is open and smack right into it, turning themselves from Bichons to Pugs, just like that. Trust me, I've seen it happen. Not a pretty sight.
So, what did Linda learn from all this? Not to leave the darned door open so Mole People can come in?
No, no, I mean about schedules. What did Linda learn about "schedules"?
Well, um, hmmmm, lessee, ah, er, gee.....