Saturday Mornings from my POV.

February 10, 2007 at 7:20 am (General Life)

Ugh. God, what time is it? Fuck, I got a headache.

<roll over, see Emma still sleeping>


<quietly roll out of bed, walk to the kitchen to start the kettle>

Ugh. Only 8am. Brew. Need Brew. Coffee.

<assemble the new version of coffee: instant grounds, two teaspoons of sugar, and some milk>

I miss Dunkin Donuts. Ouch. Coffee too hot.

<get back into bed and waits for Emma to wake up, an hour or so later>

<snuggle time>

“You got to get dressed. Your Mom will be here soon.”

<throw some bread in the toaster>

“Can you make sure to put  <random food I miss from the USA> on the grocery list?

….Please?

…..But I really want <random food I miss from the USA>.”

<plop down on the couch to watch some cooking contest show they have on every Saturday morning>

“Alright, babes. Have fun grocery shopping. Yeah, I’ll text you if I think of anything else.”

<text something to the wife about six minutes after she walks out the door>

Ugh. Dishes. Kitchen cleaning. Bathroom cleaning. Laundry. Trash.

<turn on computer, play music I only play Saturday mornings since Em thinks my tastes in music is crap. Rock out to “Dancing Round the Room” and “Let me Entertain You”>

Ugh. Dishes. Kitchen cleaning. Bathroom cleaning. Laundry. Trash. Must do.

<drink coffee, turns on hot water tap>

<wait 3 minutes>

<don oh-so-sexy yellow rubber gloves; dump out cold water from sink tub since it’s finally turning hot,  does dishes>

<stack various kitchen counter things into one small corner of the counter, spray cleaner all over counter. walk to bathroom and spray down the shower with same cleaner. return to kitchen to wipe down and rinse counters>

Mmmm. Bleach smell.

<get on hands and knees and scrub shower stall. remove drain trap. be grossed out by the millions of my own hairs caught in the drain plug. mop floor>

Bleck.

<turn on shower head and rinse stall. dance to “Love me Two Times”>

<open door to outside. prop wet mop up against side of the house>

<stroll into bedroom and pick up various clothes that need washing. grab towels from bathroom. separate whites and darks or the Mrs. will freak out.>

<decide that there are more whites than darks, wash those first>

“…cause we know we’re falling from grace, millenium….”

Whoa. I’m done cleaning.

<sits down at computer>

Shit!

<remembers to dust living room and bedroom>

Ahhhhchooo! Fucking dust.

“…and we’re prayin’ its not too late…..”

Yay. Now I’m done.

<rocks out to “That Girl” by Shaggy before he was cool and hip>

<strip the bed, realize that I just washed the sheets on Sunday. re-assemble bed.>

<puts away laundry that’s been drying on the rack since Wednesday night. see pile of laundry that needs ironing since Wednesday night>

Argh. Tomorrow. Iron tomorrow.

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