Yeah, I’m living in a pig sty. I’ll admit it. I’m living with three giant eating machines, and the big guy that spawned them. We also have a slobbering boxer dog that drops toys all over the house. No matter how many times I tell her to clean after herself, she just looks at me like this and walks away.
Two of the eating machines won’t be cluttering the house much longer since school starts for both before the month is up. One is frantically trying to put together the dorm hall “theme” that he probably should have started on a little earlier. The other was even more frantically trying to get a schedule set up and a place to live. They’ve also had a lot of friends in and out the past few days. Everyone’s trying to catch up. No one knows how the summer breezed in and out so fast.
In between all the packing and shopping and hunting for apartments, we also want to spend a little more time together. We biked. We swam. We went out to eat. We haven’t done much house cleaning. They’re packing up most of this crap and moving it out soon anyways.
Today, we took the 45 minute drive to Middle Son J’s campus to square away some details. Then we drove through the town looking for “For Rent” signs, hoping for a miracle. We found a place a very short walk from campus that they’re just completing. Brand spanking new apartments. We checked them out, and he even got to pick the one he wanted. They promise it will be done before school starts, complete with clean shiny appliances. There’s even a Quiznos right next door. Yum!
While we were gone, my mom stopped over with some garden goodies from my cousin’s giant garden. She told me she’d be coming over; I told her just to leave the goodies in the kitchen if we happened to be gone. When I noticed the bag sitting in the kitchen, I called to thank her for bringing the veggies over, to which she replied: “It looks like a bomb exploded in your house. Doesn’t anybody pick up their clothes?”
Sometimes, I get really ticked off when she makes a comment like that. I’ve been known to fume or get indignant. Today, it didn’t even phase me. I replied, “Yep. It sure does. It’s really awful.” Because it was. And I don’t care. I’m getting my kids ready for school and the housework can wait. It will wait tomorrow while we get supplies for Youngest Son’s project. It will wait the next day when we look for some modestly priced furniture to fill up J’s apartment. There are more important things to do right now.