Well, the summer houseguests are gone,and now I’m cleaning and putting the rooms to rights, vacuuming up the hundreds of spider webs that I just KNOW weren’t here two weeks ago (A spider web from the mirror on my bureaus to the curtains on my window! A spider web WITH A SPIDER, not five feet from the bed, where I have been sleeping all week…
with David a thousand miles away bringing the wonders of foam to a grateful nation.
The vacuuming part is actually sort of fun. It reminds me of going to Confession in the hard old days when you had such terror about having to report every bad intention never mind every bad act; but afterwards – ah! – You felt so clean! Shriven was the word they used. This house is shriven!
The sleeping-alone part seemed like it might be fun for a change but it hasn’t been.
Oh at first it was cool knowing I had the bed to myself and piling all kinds of things in there with me but after that… I don’t know.
Last night I tossed and turned.
I miss the old ball and chain and when he gets off that plane at 4pm today I can tell you I will be HAPPY to see him, that wiper-down of counters and picker-up of sticks outside, that meticulous householder. I suppose he’ll notice right away that I ran over a giant bottle of Nivea with my car. It exploded with a loud crack when it went under the wheels and sprayed its special Super Enriching formula in a 30-foot delta across the driveway.
Yeah. He’ll notice that. He is one vigilant guy.
Here is a picture of him now, keeping watch over our littlest one’s supper that time we took all the kids to Disney World. (Or, come to study it more, he might just be eyeing everyone’s leftovers.)
I hope he even gets here early. I think I’m growing a little odd without him. Can you say Grey Gardens?
There was something cool about old Edith Beale but ice cream in bed taken straight from the cartoon is generally a bad idea.