Imagine it’s Saturday and my husband is gone.  Gone… somewhere.  Somewhere involving work pants, a bobcat, and a rental house.  Somewhere I do not want to be.

Gus wakes up at 6:30am.  Ry follows around 7:30am in flannel footie pjs that are dangerously close to sprouting a leak in the right toe area.  We play for a bit in the big bed (What, after all, are Saturdays for?) and then begin to make our way down to the basment to attempt some laundry. I have slept in clothes I have already decided I will live in today… all but socks.  I grab a pair from The Boy’s clean pile… blue stripes.  These will go well with the charcoal velour sweatpants, red baseball tee, and maroon sweatshirt I am wearing.  Maroon sweatshirt WITH a rip in the front pocket.  Are you looking for the definition of sexy?  I’m right here. I’m always RIGHT HERE.

Gideon is the cutest of all of us in an owl shirt and navy sweats.  The kid could be in a GAP ad.  I kind of hate him at the moment.  Him and his cheerfulness and his cheeks.  Ry has just become aware of  a hair clip hanging at the tip of her split ends.  She is enraged by its presence and throws it dramatically at me.  Fine. Thank you.  I tame 1% of my hair back with it and we move on.

Upon reaching the basement, I send Rylie into her room to dress.  She comes out with jean shorts.  It’s ridiculously bright outside but very cold.  I explain this and send her back in for Phase II.  Gideon inchworms his way to my knitting, dismantles a beautiful ball of tweed yarn, and begins to suck on my sewing scissors.  He’s still happy.

Rylie is gone for a long time.  By the time she returns, I am motivated and in the laundry room throwing wet, clean clothes into the dryer.  She begins to help.  I throw in, she throws in. More? she signs.  Yep- get more.  By all means, get more.  When I finish emptying the washer I realize Rylie has been contributing from the laundry room floor… of dirty laundry.  The dryer is now a stew of wet, clean laundry and dry, absolutely filthy laundry covered in dog hair. I turn around to size up my ‘helper.’

Walter Tango, Child! You are a vision.  A VISION.  But, she IS warmer than before and so I cannot complain.  I turn on the dryer.  The lint trap will catch the dog hair and I’ll run the entire load through the wash again.  Mostly, I just do not have the awesomeness to empty the machine after all that effort.  I figure if the machine if full, I have in some way succeeded.

Gideon has wormed his way into Abe’s dog kennel.  He is sucking on the metal bars.  He is still happy.  Suddenly, Abe jumps up barking to beat the band.  This can mean one of two things: the UPS man is here (and he HATES the UPS man) or a leaf has blown across our front yard.  How this dog can hear things from the basement dungeon is beyond me.  I can yell straight into his eyeballs at 11pm to get off my red chair and he doesn’t budge. 

I gather up Gus Man and instruct Punky Brewster to follow me back up the stairs to investigate.  Abe is now at the front window carrying on a  l  o  u  d  conversation with a beautiful and equally excited black lab on the porch.  Coming up my driveway are two brothers… one 13-ish and one about 6.  The 6 year-old has a metal rake in his hand and his pockets are hanging out of his jeans.  The older brother has on motorcycle gear minus the helmet but with shin guards.  Gideon is clapping frantically (He’s still happy.) while Rylie yells at Abe.  AHHB!  AHHHHHB!  Naw (No.).  NAW (NO!)!

I wish someone could have taken a picture right then and there.  We could have won about 42 awards. I open the window, explain Abe is not going to attack them, and ask what they need.

Older boy: “We’re just trying to get our dog back home.  I really apologize for all this.”

Me: “It’s completely fine.  I’ll take Abe into the basement so your dog can settle down.”

Younger boy: “Thank you.”

He lets out a big sigh as he plants the rake on the front porch and leans against it. 

He continues: “It’s been a crazy morning, Ma’am.”

You’re telling me, kid. 

You’re telling me.

I manhandle Abe back to the basement along with Gus and Rylie.  As if on cue, the dryer DINGS! to tell me it has dried the load I asked it to, efficiently and without prejudice.

I shut the door as if I did not hear it and begin to make a fort in earnest where I will hide from corral play with my children until reinforcements get here.  The fort requires all cushions, pillows, blankets, comforters, and clean towels from the (clean) laundry.  Why not?  It is only 10:03 am.  I have all day.

Come back Thursday, mmm’k?

We’ll discuss the poll results AND

I’ll have a give-away for you. 

Imagine that.


About texasnorth

TexasNorth is a little farm in Western Michigan. It's home to 5 chickens, 25 longhorn cattle, a coonhound (Banjo), 1 barn cat, a husband, and 3 ridiculously funny children. The mom of this zoo has been known to mow the lawn in a skirt and roast marshmallows after dark. View all posts by texasnorth

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