Labor Day, Shmabor Day. I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to one last long-sunny weekend to bid farewell to summer. Apparently I hadn’t paid much attention to the three months of clouds and rain that had preceded Labor Day weekend. Why should it be sunny when the rest of the summer was lacking? Oh well … at least my husband went sailing for Labor Day. With his client, of course. On the clock. Sailing for work. He’s not the captain of the sailboat … just a passenger aboard a nice pleasure cruise around the lake. That must have been nice.
I stayed home with the kids. Determined to clean out the misguided yard sale items and minimization efforts in between loads of laundry from our summer adventures, and loads of dishes from my attempted cullinary mastery. But my mind just couldn’t get around relaxing my way out of summer and gearing up for fall. My kids don’t start school for another week though … so even that sense of urgency was lacking. Instead, I just pretty much ate and wandered around the house trying to find more layers in my severely minimized closet to keep me warm. I guess you could say I was less than laborous on Labor Day. But still, I did not want to go to bed with a messy house when I am facing an over-booked work week while preparing my kids to start school …
That’s when I had a stroke of sheer brilliance. Instead of looking forward to another evening at home with my disasterous house while my husband goes to Fantasy Football Draft #2 of the season … why not host the draft at our house!?!? If there’s one way I know for sure to get my husband to clean the house, it is to invite people over … he promptly cancelled his early morning golf date, hired his sisters to clean the house, fold the laundry, and care for our children, and organized a potluck around the meals I’d prepared last week. Like clockwork, I’m telling you.
He’s more motivated than I. In fact, yesterday, he was encouraged to seek his Ph.D. in Psychology. “Why?” I asked. “So they can refer to you as Dr. Leisure?” So, he’s moving a mile a minute, and so are the kids and the cleaning crew downstairs in my house. I’m sitting up here, in my nice clean office, drinking a warm cup of tea, waiting for my next conference call to begin, and thinking … thank God for Fantasy Football.
Now all I have to do is load up my gently-used-trash and head to the thrift store this afternoon. Which happens to be conveniently located across the street from the coffee stand. I’m just sayin’.