I was possessed by an unusual burst of productivity this morning.
Since this almost never happens, I recognized the necessity of "striking while the iron is hot. " I felt an urgency of acting on it, bordering on manic, before it dissipated into my usual tendency of wanting to take a nap.
The nap, for the most part wins out because ~ I'll go ahead and admit this ~ I am weak.
I got dressed and decided to walk Wes to the bus stop out of guilt for swatting his rear end his morning.
The swat occurred after four visits to his room and five requests to get out of bed (although the decibel of each "request" grew notably louder at each visit ). Also, the rump was protruding in such a way from his blankets that made it irresistible ~ I couldn't help but smack it. He laughed at me, but I suspect he realized just how serious I really was.
After the bus left, I strolled around the neighborhood with a motley assortment of other parents. I received a very good, detailed lesson on carpenter ants and termites from a chatty Puerto Rican. "You trow a peec of wud in ze treez. Two weeks latah, is gone. Gone! Ze termites eat it all!"
She instructed me to go home and look termites up on the Internet.
"Why would she do that, Este," a father said as he carried his separation anxiety ridden daughter of about three. The crying had started when her sister disappeared onto the bus and continued 1/4 mile down the street. It didn't seem to be letting up; I wonder if this happened every morning.
"You've already told her everything she would possibly, ever need to know about termites, Este!"
I decided to cruise by the lot on which our house is going to be built. Here is a better picture of what it is going to look like. There are going to be more trees around it and the color of the brick and shakes are different (as it is going to be in the Craftsman style), but you get the idea ~ at least it isn't a sketch:
We also found out that they are going to add ceramic tile to the dining room, free of charge. I had originally assumed that this area was going to tiled anyway, but as we went over the details at the model home on Tuesday it was indicated as "carpet" on the drawings.
I was immediately filled with anxiety as I thought about a carpeted dining area. I protested slightly, to which the agent suggested we could always buy an outdoor area rug that could be hosed off and vacuumed to be kept clean.
It seemed to make sense, but I wondered how often, honestly, this "hosing off" event would occur. It seemed like an awful lot of work ~ lifting the table up, moving the chairs. If something required that much effort, in our house, it would never, ever be done.
The anxiety festered. It began to ooze when I swept and mopped the floor yesterday morning and noted how gross and dirty they were. I had mopped only one week before! Fester and ooze.
I thought perhaps I should take a half of a Xanax; instead I called Chris.
"We have to do something about that carpeted dining area," I said, pleadingly. "You need to call them and bring it up, because I think it could drive me completely insane." Understatement of the year. I would obsess and fret about it until I had an attack.
Chris is the designated phone caller in our house because I have an aversion to the telephone. I don't know where this came from, but I suspect it had something to do with being a receptionist for a short time after high school in an insurance office.
Each time I picked up the phone, I was verbally abused by a pissed off customer. I was like Pavlov's dog receiving a shock (or however that whole experiment went - it has been a while since psychology) when it went for a treat. Before long, I was conditioned to practically weep when the phone rang. I was broken; therefore I quit.
I do own a cell phone that rarely rings, except when Chris calls me. E-mail is the preferred means of communication for me.
Chris took care of the tile and told the agent (most likely in a brow-beaten tone) that we would pay whatever difference was needed to accomplish this tile/carpet change-out.
The agent responded last evening in a message that informed us that there would be no charge.
I immediately became easier to live with, so relieved was I to receive such wonderful news. We decided that they either, 1.) really need the business, or 2.) really like us. I would like to believe the latter because we are, truly, delightful people.
The stress was quickly replaced by other issues, one being the yard. I mowed what I could this morning in my burst of energy. Yet the jungle in the next lot is aggressively taking over, and I refuse to weed-whack for fear of what could jump out at me (or crawl on me).
SO, as my burst of productivity is winding down, I put the baby down for her morning nap and am contemplating one of my own.
My heart is bursting with happiness because it is lunchtime. But now that I think of it, there is nothing to eat in this house.
Perhaps I should have used my productivity differently.