With the Festival put to bed for the year, I find myself in an unusual place:
At home.
There's no office to go to. There are errands to run, certainly, but they can be accomplished in an hour's time. And our evenings? Free. And our weekends? Empty.*
So, I find myself focusing on taking care of the house. My kitchen hasn't been so regularly cleaned in months. My floors are vacuumed 3-4 times a week. All of my laundry has been cleaned, folded, and put away. And best of all, I have time to cook again.
I love cooking. It reminds me of my mom teaching me how to brown hamburger, and fry chicken, and my grandfather teaching me how to make breakfast, and my grandmother teaching me how to make stuffed peppers.
Which is what I made for dinner last night. With Miles underfoot. Crazy child. While I browned hamburger, he opened his cabinet and played with his pots and pans. While I boiled peppers and mixed ingredients, he played with magnets on the refrigerator. And when the timer was going off, telling me that I was about to overcook the peppers and ruin the meal, Miles started screaming bloody murder. For no reason. He just wanted attention. But I didn't know that at the time.
Cooking with children underfoot should be considered an extreme sport. It certainly got my blood pressure up. :)
*Except, of course, this weekend, since it's Thanksgiving. :)
You cook, you do the laundry, you clean, you look after Miles AND you vacuum 3-4 times a week.
ReplyDeleteI hope my husband doesn't read this post and leave me for you.
Tina: Yeah, this will last for about three weeks, and then I'll get bored and it'll all go to hell again. I'm only this productive when I'm just coming off of working full time. :)
ReplyDeleteOh, and just because I clean doesn't mean you can tell by the time Patrick gets home - it's usually a disaster again by the time he walks in the door.