So much for spring.
I woke up to dark gray skies and spitting rain. And it was cold again. Not winter cold, but definitely not the glorious spring weather from just a day ago. To make matters worse—as if the weather wasn’t enough to curdle my mood—my house was in a frightening state when I finally rolled out of bed and made the rounds throughout the public rooms. There was no evidence of the time spent cleaning the day before. There were dozens of spent soda cans and paper plates littering every available surface. And Henry Chow had fallen asleep in a piece of cake.
I wasn’t the only one to have guests at last night’s Twilight party, but my guests were the only ones to go home. Somewhere in the bowels of my house was an assortment of teenage girls and one teenage boy—their very good friend who just happened to be just “one of the girls” and therefore didn’t count with regard to the “no boys upstairs” rule.
The teenagers were still sleeping after the long hours spent debating the merits of Team Edward vs. Team Jacob. It was a heated debate that carried on into the wee hours of the night. I know because I heard the death screams of laughter from time to time. I didn’t bother to investigate. Sort of like a baby’s cry, a teenager’s death scream varies depending on the situation. There is a scream of hunger, a scream for attention, a scream of delight (the scream I was hearing), a scream for no reason whatsoever, and a scream for reasons that need to be immediately and thoroughly investigated just in case someone is moments away from stepping out on the roof! All things considered, I might rather they were still babies…but that wasn’t an option.
I couldn’t complain too loudly, after all, my house was still standing—if just a little askew. In addition to the mess, there were a few casualties from the night before—my favorite lamp for one. It was displaced from its perch on the side table by a few too many plates of food and cans of soda until it slipped to the floor with an explosion of metal and glass. But what is a party without a little broken glass? The only thing missing was a visit from the police. Still, I would definitely call that a successful party!
But the party was over, and all that was left was a few sleeping teenagers and enough garbage to star in a Hefty commercial. Which reminds me…when I was buying garbage bags the other day, I noticed that almost every package of bags featured a dog jumping up on the side of a trash can, peering in to see what was inside. Am I supposed to discern from this that the bags are approved by dogs everywhere? Or that the bags are dog proof? Because neither of those things is a ringing endorsement for trash bags as far as I’m concerned. For my dogs to endorse any garbage bags they would have to be easy to chew through—not something I would buy if I was aware. And the idea of a dog proof garbage bag is, in and of itself, silly when you see the dog peering in over the top. Do the bag makers not realize that dogs know the garbage is in there? My dogs rarely chew through the bags, but rather go right for the top access. I hide my cans now. I think they should show the can inside a closet with a dog sitting on the outside with a sad face because he knows there are food scraps in there that he will never eat. But that’s just me.
As the morning dragged on, one by one the teen revelers slipped out of the house without a word until the only three left were the two that lived there and their best friend, who may as well.
Those of us who were left made pancakes and maple syrup sausage and proceeded to pour out the half drank remnants of at least two twelve packs of soda. I wasn’t in any hurry to do anything exciting. I was more than willing to have a lazy Sunday for a change. Eventually I would be forced to shower and do my laundry. I would have to cook a meal, and write a blog…that was inevitable…but at the outset, I was content to do nothing at all.
I suppose I should feel guilty that I did nothing all day—nothing, outside of putting my house back in order, something that didn’t take nearly as long as I expected it to. And now, it’s almost time for bed, and the vicious cycle that I call my life will begin again with another Monday. I will think about that with as much positive energy as possible. It certainly could be worse! I could just not wake up at all in the morning. And how sad that would be for all of you to be without a daily blog…
Until the next time…I’ll be watching New Moon again while I do my laundry!