Laboring

So I totally forgot about Labor Day until it was too late and I sat all slack-jawed in front of a store that was "closed." Irksome. To me it is just another Monday... except that it isn't.

The Husband has the week off from work, and will be... erm, in my way the rest of the week. I don't know how I am bothered by it, but it's an interruption in the schedule. And we all know how much I love THE ROUTINE. I also feel like we should be doing something entertaining, not that The Husband has asked to be entertained, and probably doesn't even notice that I am acting all weird around him. Once the kids are taking naps my mind is thinking "I need to go sort out all that laundry upstairs... and mop the floor... and maybe clean out that bottom drawer in the bathroom stuffed with bandaid boxes and nailpolish... and none of these things are exactly two person jobs. Daytime TV isn't exactly exciting, and because he is not used to lowering his standards of entertainment to include shows like "Famous Food" and "Celebrity Rehab," he rolls his eyes and physically winces when I scroll through the DVR offerings.
And I still have the regular stuff that needs to get done- not enough to delegate of course- (if you want something done right, you do it yourself, yo) and I have this guy hanging around. I have my suspicions, that a weekend with the kids is usually enough time for The Husband to feel ready to get back to work- away from the whining, the fussing, and the tantrum making. I think the kids' and their antics are wearing on The Husband's patience. (I may secretly enjoy it) I have booked The Husband up solid with past-due doctor's and dentist appointments, so that I can have some of my own alone time.
Am I contradicting myself too much? I get all lonely and cabin fever-y, and then I get all ruffled when I have a tag-along for a week. Fickle... I am sorry Husband, there seems to be no pleasing me.

I am working on the Harry Potter series, progressing at quite a clip- 2/3rds through the last book. I've been watching the movies, along with the reading. I've been positively immersed in Harry Potter lately. I am starting to dream in Hogwarts- it's unsettling. Now that The Husband has joined in and wants to do a movie marathon, I am getting weary of it. (although I am dying to know how it ends) I had been shirking my housework a bit too much, so I had to back off- that and the fear that once I am done with the books, I, well.. I will have no more Harry Potter to read! No more reasons to flip on some PBS for the little ones while I hunker over a book and disappear for a while. This has underlined a good reason why I should not get into books until the kids are more independent, (or at school) I have no willpower to put the book down and get on with life until an opportune moment to crack the book back open and start the story back up again.
I would like to say one thing about the books, there is too much Quiddich. The Husband finds this hilarious; I cannot even stand IMAGINARY sports. I am totally skimming through the Quiddich matches. Less sports, more magickery, please!

I found a full gallon of paint at the old house, and the idea of painting the crayon-scrawled walls of the downstairs playroom... well, the idea pestered and pecked away at my brain until I could resist it no longer. My hands are aching from all the painting. The room looks so much better, though. Freshly painted walls- is there any better feeling? I now keep the double doors wide open, so I can see the lovely clean-ness of the room every time I pass.

This time of year is like spring for me. I know that winter is coming, and it will be time to DO THINGS once more. We can go places! Holidays are coming up! I can't wait! In waiting for the weather to change from dreadfully oppressive heat to lovely and crisp cool, I am cleaning out the house. Yes, the very same house we moved into like three months ago, it is already feeling past-due for a good over haul and reorganizing. Naturally. Because I'm insane.

Now I must go mop the floors. Adieu!