It's Bastille Day, and, even with my degree in French Literature ("Voulez-vous des pommes frites avec ca?") I find it a tad hard to get excited. I am more excited about the fact that I ducked another trip to the gym...yeah, yeah, I know...and that Himself (fractured rib and all) took Son Number Two to go work himself into a sweaty mess in the middle of a thunderstorm. Had I remembered that bottle of sherry the other day this evening would be pretty close to perfect.
As it is, I feel compelled to have something on the table when they return, even if it is only leftovers from the past two days with a salad on the side. The piles are calling my name, but I'd really rather sit down and learn my lines from the play I'm in. I am such a snob about being the first one in a cast to get "off book". Sixty-one is a little late for developing ADD, but I find myself wandering from room to room, starting something and then saying, "Oh, look over there!" and off I go to some other soon-to-be-discarded task until it's time for bed. The theory is that if I do that enough times eventually the house will be clean. So far the theory doesn't hold a lot of water. Maybe it will work better if I sing "La Marseillaise" as I go.........
As it is, I feel compelled to have something on the table when they return, even if it is only leftovers from the past two days with a salad on the side. The piles are calling my name, but I'd really rather sit down and learn my lines from the play I'm in. I am such a snob about being the first one in a cast to get "off book". Sixty-one is a little late for developing ADD, but I find myself wandering from room to room, starting something and then saying, "Oh, look over there!" and off I go to some other soon-to-be-discarded task until it's time for bed. The theory is that if I do that enough times eventually the house will be clean. So far the theory doesn't hold a lot of water. Maybe it will work better if I sing "La Marseillaise" as I go.........
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