Dom has the day off. Unfortunately, he also seems to have some sort of stomach bug. Rather than churning through our to-do list, he’s been convalescing on the couch. Not that I’m blaming him, I’ve done more than my fair share of days on the couch in recent months. Bella’s been trying to shove crackers in his mouth and playing peek-a-boo with his toes under the afghan. She’s confused about why we didn’t go to church this morning.
I, however, am having the mother of all energy bursts. Starting with the dishes left over from last night’s dinner (one of those that dirtied every pot and pan and bowl in the house, it seemed), I moved on to sweeping the kitchen floor, wiping of the table and then cleaning the stove top. Not just wiping it down; but removing all the burners and really scrubbing off the accumulated grease. Then I washed the front of the oven and the front of the dishwasher and the front and the inside of the microwave. And that somehow led to scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees. I took out the trash and then scrubbed down the outside of the trash can. Now I’m washing the bathmat and all the dirty towels, having paused to take a few swipes at the bathroom floor.
And so it goes. All the silly things that don’t really need to get done; but I just can’t stand the idea of their not being done. I’m making myself sit down right now so I can put my swollen feet up and drink some water; but there’s a list writing itself in my head. How much else can I do before this manic fit wears off?