Did I mention this house is really small?
So I came home from work Saturday and I was exhausted. Not because of work, mind you...my "volunteers" for the day -- court-ordered community service -- didn't show. So I worked on our database all morning so that the Washington Post will receive only 25 of our mailings at a time instead of 150 (many people receiving multiple copies). Things like that. Hardly taxing -- but abysmally boring.
Anyway, allergies bothering me, poor night's sleep, etc. Suffice to say I was tired.
I really just wanted to get comfy and watch movies for the rest of the day. And knit. Since I'm knitting a gift, I insist on calling it "doing something," so that when Dirtman asks me what I did that day, I can say "I worked hard knitting so-n-so's such-n-such" and it doesn't sound like I beached myself in a chair and watched movies.
So I said to Zsa Zsa (because, you know, I never talk to myself), "Why not? I'm not going anywhere and Dirtman will be at work until 9 o'clock. I'm going to get in my flannel pajamas, knit and plug in the DVD series known as Movies Only Mom Likes."
(I have one pair of flannel pajamas that are affectionately know as my Oxymoron Pajamas. They're made of heavy, warm flannel, but have pictures of popsicles on them. This amuses Heir 1 no end.)
So I did.
And no sooner did I get myself installed in my comfy chair (All together now: Not the Comfy Chair!) in my baggy flannel pjs and fuzzy slippers (oh, yes. fuzzy slippers) next to the fireplace with my mug of tea and my knitting with Lion in the Winter playing, than Heir 1 and the entire Strasburg High School Classes of 2005, 2006 and 2007 came marching through my livingroom.
Dogs barking, doors slamming. More cars driving up. More dogs barking. Somewhere in all of this is Peter O'Toole screaming, "There'll be pork in the tree tops come morning!" (which is, like, the best retort ever when someone says, "When pigs fly!").
Anyway -- not the most relaxing moment and we won't even go into the loss of dignity of being caught in your flannel pajamas at 2:30 in the afternoon.
I followed up Lion in the Winter with You Can't Take It With You, which should be required viewing of every Wall Street executive, whether they still have a job or not. Meanwhile, more people were cramming themselves in Heir 1's bedroom. (He claims they were all just the same people coming and going.)
I even attempted to get into the kitchen to make brownies, but another wave came through and if being in your pajamas at 2:30 in the afternoon is pathetic, being in your pajamas at 2:30 in the afternoon and making a pan of brownies is just sad and depressing.
Finally I gave up and retreated to my bedroom with Zsa Zsa, Abbey, Whiskers and Topper, who at this point was having a nervous breakdown because he could hear strangers in the house and because he's like the Don Knotts of the Aussie world. (Topper and Salt have the crud again this fall. You regulars remember the annual Topper/Salt crud. It's not pretty.)
So today I have to make up for slacking off yesterday. And make brownies.