“There’s a 30 percent chance it’s already raining.”
— Karen Smith, Mean Girls
In my week of independence, I planned to accomplish many a-things. Visiting family, knitting some baby shower gifts, tending to the jungle-ish yard, and whatever craft project popped into my head that day. (Shelf painting and precarious book hanging.) In his never-ending love for the wilderness, Manny took off on a five-day hiking trip, plus two days for driving, and that leaves me and the cats a whole week of doing-whatever-we-want time. (For them that means trying to sleep on my neck and whining for food.)
But before you get a bright idea about flashlight-robbing my garden, I’ll remind you that posts are written a week in advance. By the time this goes live, Manny will be home and sleeping above his M16 assault rifle.*
With a whole week of alone-ness – minus the cats – I could accomplish a crap-ton of things. And with more leftovers than a non-competitive eater can consume and an enormous, exuberant amount of rain, my to-do list is shrinking by the minute.
Would Lemon Approve?
If I was Liz Lemon — which is a new decision method I’m working on — I’d probably celebrate by wolfing sandwiches and bags of off-brand cheese chips. Then I’d power-bomb some shows on Netflix while wearing sweats all week, maybe without showers. While I’m not saying the above is not on the list, it’s not something I’ve done yet.
Then again, maybe I’ll plaster my computer with Neville Longbottom screen savers and polish up my quidditch trivia — a very un-Lemon thing to do; she loves Star Wars.
Even Rowling couldn’t have predicted this game changer.
The Great Rain of 2013
As it turns out, all of these plans are at the mercy of rain that just won’t quit. Three days and counting, my yard collects water, the street becomes a pond, and hopefully the cellar does not. Since there’s no man around to investigate, the world will never know. (That is a joke; I checked and the cellar definitely leaks.) The garden remains green, but is a few showers away from drowning status. The tomato cages are even propped up with garden tools to keep them from flopping over in the super mud. (Please don’t die, garden; we have too much food yet to eat from you.)
As for the indoor activities, I’m kicking that list’s butt. With a heavy dose of cabin fever, I’ve knitted, read, cooked, cleaned, and played with the cats until they could run no more. They too want to go outside to gain some personal space; I should check Amazon for cat umbrellas.
Next on the list:
- A girls night Twilight-a-thon
- Monthly town dinner (these Methodist ladies know how to cook, no way I’m missing out)
- A bone-soaking walk with my umbrella-ella-ella
- More crafts
Helping my teacher friend set up her classroom
- Pulling out baby trees, which come up splendidly in heavy moisture
- And if it’s still raining, I might get desperate for activities and sew the sheets into curtains.
I appreciate the effort, nature, but we need a dry out; I’m saying uncle.
*I have no idea if that’s the right type of gun.