Vacuum this

Oh dear GOD, it’s so hot my brain is leak…in..g…. Wait. I’ve said that before, haven’t I? And so have 10,000 other maniacs writing in the heat… Gotta find another cliche’. But it’s too hot to do it now.

We got back about an hour ago from Jesse’s graduation, which I’ll write about in a minute. Mm, maybe. It might take more thought and sentiment than I’m up to at the moment (see above paragraph) so I might have to do it later. Scott wants to see War of the Worlds tonight, but he was so tired he decided to catch a tiny little nap before we had to leave. Problem is, the theater’s about 40 minutes away, and when I thought to check the clock it was 3:30p, half an hour before the last matinee. I don’t have the heart to wake him. Maybe he’ll rise bright-eyed at 6p and we can go at 7p. I don’t really care; I’m not in much of a movie mood. I rarely am anymore. Movies used to be so much better than they are now. I get so bored and twitchy, and last weekend that stupid Bewitched just about did me in. Now that we have the big screen at home, and the killer sound system my stereo-obsessed hubs set up, why would I want to be anywhere else? I can take pee breaks, and wear my jammies, and laugh really really loud, and make snide remarks, and put my feet on the seats, and stand up and stretch, and keep my cell phone on, and the food is cheaper. Besides, as far as War of the Worlds goes, it’s going to be mostly of the action genre, which tends to make my eyes blur and hurts my head. Also, I am definitely off Tom Cruise for good, and he was never one of my favorites before, by any stretch.

Looking around, I can see a literal layer of dog hair on the family room carpet. It’s absolutely disgusting. Oohh I hate housework.

I’m kind of excited about the 4th. For the last few years, we’ve done absolutely nada, but Wednesday I happened to notice an itinerary posted at the coffee shop when I was there with Jean. It listed events taking place downtown this coming Monday from 10a to 9p, when the day will finally culminate in a tremendous fireworks display. Scott has to work, but I think Jean and I and any of my kids who choose me over friends (guess how many that will be?) might pack some grub, water, and sunscreen and spend the day toodling around town, celebrating. Then Scott can join us for fireworks that evening. Fourth of July used to be so fun when I was a kid watching my uncles light illegal fireworks on the beach in Arroyo Grande, but it’s depressed me ever since my highschool boyfriend chose to go to a party with friends ( a party to which I was not invited, and to which a very flirty girl with huge boobs who was after him was ) instead of sit around flattering me all evening. He turned out to be kind of a putz, so it irks me that I spent that holiday perched atop the slide on our backyard playset sobbing while distant fireworks exploded with muffled thuds over the silhouetted treetops. I wish I would have found my own party to go to. I guess that’s what I’m doing this year. Finding my own party, since Scott (who is not a putz) has to work.

I found a perfect alternative to jeans or a dress to wear to Jesse’s graduation today: a hippie shirt and a long, denim skirt. How the skirt can be simultaneously stretched out and tight is a mystery, though. The waistband could accomodate another person, easy, but my thighs are being strangled. Sigh. That probably says more about my body than it does the skirt, but I don’t want to talk about that right now.

It’s amazing how much you can write when you don’t have anything to say.

Time to go. I should vacuum, but as everyone else in the house is sleeping, I may as well succumb to the sandman, too, and leave the cleaning for later. Maybe we’ll ALL rise at 6p (or 4a) and clean together. That’d be a hoot. (More about Jesse’s graduation, which was really terrific, later when I’m not in such a mood). xo

This entry was posted on Friday, July 01st, 2005 at 4:57pm and is filed under journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.