It's 11 p.m. I'm kicking back with a beer, scrolling through my itunes mix (now playing: Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina", with KLF and some Dead Milkmen in the queue), taking a break from my latest "project". (Dad would be proud - it's always time for a beer when you're working on a project.)
This is the pretty credenza we brought home a few weeks ago. Doesn't it look so very grown up? You know you've reached a certain stage in your life when your vocabulary includes the word "credenza". Never mind actually owning one. But now we do. Yippee skippy!
I've been chomping at the bit to get all my glassware out, washed and neatly arranged within its elegant recesses. I mean, we've been here for what, a year? Figure it's time to unpack. But then, it's item 2,759 on a long list of priorities. The top ones mostly involve the nightly routine of meal, dishes, bath time, laundry, bed. Lather, rinse, repeat on a daily basis. Who has time for fun stuff like organizing wine glasses according to frequency of use, type of beverage and height?
Tonight, both girls went down easily and Hubby crashed early (forgoing a Habs-Leafs game! He must be tired ...) so HEY! I have some time to myself!
There's a lot of stuff. Not entirely sure if I can cram it all in there, but we've got the everyday glasses, the champagne flutes, and all the cocktail receptacles relegated to their respective spots. I'm just about to dig out the screwdriver to rearrange a shelf or two to make space for vases and such. See the red toolbox over there on the left? Yeah. That's when I knew it was time for a beer.
Hard at work. That's me. At 11 o'clock. At NIGHT. I need to get a life.
No comments:
Post a Comment