When I was a kid I loved watching I Dream of Jeannie because I thought it would be so COOL to be able to BLINK BLINK and the housework would be done, BLINK BLINK and the laundry, cooking, etc. would all be finished in a flash. Even then I knew that Jeannie was a dumb broad if she thought the way to Major Nelson’s heart was doing the vacuuming and cooking all by herself. Everyone knows the real way to a man’s heart, and it is NOT by being an immaculate housekeeper, just sayin’.
Instead of enjoying my new fabrics and my Alabama Beauty INKLINGO patterns I have spent the last week-plus cleaning my BUNS off. I’ve thrown out, de-cluttered, smuggled bags out of the house for Goodwill (my husband still has his original diapers….) and spent today balancing on a chair cutting the trim in and around the bathroom cabinets, mirror, tub and closet. There must be 9 miles of trim in that bathroom. Normally I love to paint, but my husband got a hold of my (yes, MY) cutting brushes and wrecked my favorite one, leaving me with a sub-standard brush to cut 9 miles of trim (French Linen Gray, BTW) in this bathroom. (Note: If anyone from Pittsburgh Paints is reading this, you guys have GOT to get your act together. This stuff is not covering well and frankly, it’s a little drippy. I used to love you guys but I have 3 rooms that need paint and this is the last gallon of P.P. that is going up in my house for a long time.)
I guess this would all be okay if MY relatives were coming to visit ( hell, I’d make them paint ) but it is HIS cousins. We haven’t seen these people since our wedding almost 23 years ago so I’m not sure what we will be talking about, but there you go. They are coming for a 4 day festival that I avoid like the plague. St. Peter’s Fiesta used to be a lovely novena-based celebration of faith that culminated in the blessing of the fishing fleet and some fiercely good Sicilian cooking. It has degenerated into a 5 day drunk complete with a sleazy carnival and a baby boom 9 months from now when all the babies will be named “Peter”. It saddens me to see something that was once so beautiful become such a nightmare. Note to Gloucester Italians: “Fiesta” is not even a word not found in your language. Be authentic – your grandparents and great-grandparents had the right idea.
I need to get back to cleaning. Sometimes you just need impending house guests to light a fire underneath your slovenly self and git ‘er done. Joe will be handling the cleaning of all the floors, including the Chernobyl-like kitchen floor that is original to the 1975 house. An uglier floor never lived. These folks are arriving on Thursday and leaving on Monday morning. I’m following them out the driveway and heading downtown to the flooring store where I will put a blindfold over my eyes, swing a cat and whatever it lands on is the new kitchen floor. BLINK BLINK. I’m on a roll.