Saturday Evening Post

Yesterday was one of my favorite Saturdays in recent history. It came as quite a surprise, considering I nearly cried myself to sleep the night before. “Why?” you ask. No reason. Just because I do that sometimes when all the feeling in my body has to go somewhere so it explodes out my eyeballs.

However, the next morning, I was up at the crack of dawn (*cough* 8:45 a.m.) and ready to roll. My life motto is “Know thyself” and as part of this, I know not to expect too much of myself on a Saturday. Usually, the only thing I ask myself to do on Saturdays is clean the house. This should take around two hours, but ends up taking anywhere from two to eight hours, depending on how seductive Cup of Jo is on that particular morning.

The first thing I did was write my blog post. Since I started writing at The Gig a few months ago, this has been such a fun part of every week and it was another fun post to write this week. That is, until I Googled images of a “voodoo momma of Nawlins”. After that my insides felt squishy and I kept looking over my shoulder. Blech.

Next, I planned out the party that I was going to have with some high school girls later that night. I really wanted to do some papier-mâché, but it turns out it has to dry for, like, a week, so that was out of the question. Settled on Mothers Day cards and some Apples to Apples. And cupcakes. Can’t go wrong with cupcakes.

Then, I cleaned the house. In two hours. Seriously. I’m still in shock. All sparkly clean by 12:30. (Oh yeah, the key to this monumental achievement was to dangle Cup of Jo’s weekend round-up in front of me like a carrot.)

We ate some chicken tacos with avocado and smoked pepper salsa (FAVORITE) and watched a Top Gear (what else?). You wouldn’t believe how I can drop names like Rolls Royce Phantom and Mercedes SLR McLaren and Porsche 911 Carrera now. It’s insane.

After the show was over and Logan said his habitual, “Well, back to the ol’ bump ‘n’ grind,” I had this odd feeling come over me and I thought, “What do I do now?” You see, it was 1:30 p.m. on a Saturday and I had accomplished everything I needed to accomplish.

So, I drank some green tea and enjoyed my carrot…I mean, my Cup of Jo. Then I got started on a task that has loomed over my head for months.

The laundry room. Da Da Da Dommmmm. Da Da Da Dommmm.

This special room has become the resting place of all things laundry, all things manly and toolish, all things having to do with the meals I cook for 45+ youth group kids once a week, not to mention the washer, dryer, and water heater. It’s a scary, scary place.

You know how long it took me to clean it out? Two hours. Two hours! Why have I let it hang over my head like that when it could’ve been finished in the time it takes me to watch two episodes of Top Gear? (I might have watched at least two Top Gears in the last few months…Maybe…)

One observation: Most tools are actually just murder weapons in disguise. As I sorted through hammers, screwdrivers, chisels, X-Acto knives, and lead pipes, I got all goose pimply just imagining the damage they could do. This is definitely material for a short story in the future.

Can you believe the difference two hours can make on one room? I keep walking in there, not really needing anything, but just admiring the general splendor. I know that it has a stained cement floor and the dry wall is rotting away in places, but love covers over a multitude of sins and how I do love that laundry room! I can just imagine it the way I want it…with robin’s egg blue walls and sparkling white tiles and straight shelves full of cleaners and fluffy rags and a…wait for it…fold down ironing board! Oh, the bliss!

I had just enough time after this to shower, bake some cupcakes, run to Jen’s to borrow Apples to Apples, and make a quick supper for Logan and me before the girls arrived.

High school girls are a wealth of information. Last night I learned:

-The job market is saturated, especially if you’re a girl.
–Splinter Cell has good character development.
-When grandparents are rascist, it’s funny. When your friends are rascist, it’s shocking.
-I have an imaginary husband.
–Lady Gaga was freaky. Then she got really freaky, but now she’s back to her good ol’ freaky self again.
-Death Metal bands can make easy transitions into the Blues.
-Hugs from the Chick-fil-A cow are good for the soul.
–John Isaac captures emotion.
-Last.fm makes a sucky Adele station.

It was a fun night just hanging out and laughing and eating and talking about life. A couple of girls hung around long enough for us to get to some truly meaningful conversation about the doubt you can experience when life is hard, about not having enough money to do what you think God wants you to do, and how to be a friend to a witch who is dying. No easy answers, but we listened to each other. I cling to James 1:5.

Before I went to bed, I caught up on my bible reading. I think I’m getting behind on purpose now, because I like reading the stories in Genesis in big chunks. It feels more respectful of the story as a whole.

Then I went to bed.

The End.

(Photos courtesy of Bharat Lines, Lotus Talk, Porsche Pictures, A Pirate’s Treasure)