May 11: Friday Night, Cleaning House, Meltdowns

Guess where I am

It's Friday night.  My daughter is at the dance studio.  I have about an hour to kill.  Guess where we are?  (I know the picture kind of gives it away.)

My wife and I just finished our Wal-Mart run for the week.  It was not a pleasant shopping experience.  My three-year-old son has gotten used to getting a new toy car every time he steps foot in a store.  However, my son's taste in cars tends toward the five- and ten-dollar price range.  Our budget this week, however, was more in the 89-cent Matchbox range.  My son had a meltdown in the middle of the toy car aisle.  Then he had a meltdown on the way to the parking lot.  Then he had a meltdown as I was buckling in his car seat.  Then he had another meltdown on the way to McDonald's.  It was an afternoon of meltdowns, and I have a headache now.

I didn't get a chance to do any cleaning this afternoon, so, instead of relaxing when I get home, I will be scrubbing toilets, vacuuming, sweeping, and dusting.  Cleaning house.  I wish I could say "screw it" tonight, but I didn't clean last weekend due to our trip to Howell, Michigan.  The house is a D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R, and I use the capital letters intentionally.  I don't think I could relax in the living room unless I closed my eyes and thought of my happy place (Stockholm, in December, accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature--or taking a nap).

Saint Marty has a long night ahead of him, and he's doesn't have to use the few words of Swedish he knows.