around the house
We’ve been trying to get the flower beds in shape for spring. We’ve decided not to plant any vegetables this year, but we’re not totally neglecting everything.
Today, I worked on the big bed at the base of our driveway. There were a lot of leaves to remove, a lot of weeds to pull — and I didn’t even spread any mulch or take a before picture. I guess this is as close as it gets.
We had to be on the soccer field at 8:15 in order to warm up for the 8:45 game. That meant leaving before eight, which we didn’t accomplish, which is why we were late.
We finished the game (we won 3-1 — glad the opposing team got a goal as it’s always disheartening to be blanked) and headed to his scout den’s morning fishing trip.
After lunch, it was time for chores — trimming the crape myrtles in the front.
Nothing left to do but light the cigar and play some chess.
I came out this morning, cranked K’s car, walked around to my car ready to head to work when I saw I had a flat. Not just a tire with extremely low pressure — a tire with no air at all. It made for a rushed morning.
When I got home in the afternoon, my first priority was to get the flat off and the spare on. The spare had been in the trunk untouched since we bought the car. It had probably been untouched since the car rolled out of the dealership. And it was predictably flat as well.
One would think it’s a Monday…
We polished the nails/axels, cut and weighted the car so that the center of gravity is in the optimal location, rough-sanded, and talked about goals for the derby next week.
"I'd like to get at least third place," the Boy said.
It's a good goal: realistic, modest. We'll see.
Part of it was laziness, but we’ll chalk it up to Polishness: we finally took down our Christmas tree today. We’d been meaning to do it for a couple of weeks, but we didn’t adequately work it into our schedule.
Or we can use K’s Polishness as an excuse: Poles always put their Christmas trees up later (sometimes, only a couple of days before Christmas) and take them down later.
The Boy and I chopped it up in the afternoon. “This is so satisfying,” he said. For us all, in different ways…
Today’s task with the Boy — make some serious improvements in his room. Specifically, in its cleanliness. This meant, in part, going through toys and throwing out things that were broken, packing away to Goodwill things he no longer played with, and generally taking stock of the toys he has and what he needs.
We took out three garbage bags of stuff from his room, including probably 40 cars. We dumped all his cars out into a pile and ran the wheel test: if all four wheels roll, it’s a keeper; if not, toss it.
He was at times somewhat reluctant to give up this or that car. But we tried to be brutal. Heartless. “It’s broken, buddy,” I said I don’t know how many times. “You can’t play with it. You can’t do anything with it…”
“Yeah, but…”
Next, we cleaned out under his bed. Once we got everything taken care of, he decided he wanted to be the monster under the bed. That’s an improvement.
And toward the middle of the afternoon, L made her way into E’s room to clean the windows. K has hired her to do a lot of the Christmas cleaning because she’s saving up for a phone. That’s right. We’ve finally given in. The Girl, at age fourteen, is getting her first phone.
And, in truth, she does need one at times. She called me from volleyball practice once because they’d ended early. “Let’s go ahead and delete that number from the history…” I suggested, handing her the phone when we got in the car.
It’s that time of year — spring Christmas cleaning.
I’ve written before about K and the level of Christmas cleaning she requires:
The window is not dirty; it’s fogged from the gas in between the two panes doing something funky.
That required level of cleanliness now drives the Girl mad. “Why are madre’s standards so high?” (She’s been calling us madre and padre for about a year now. Why? Because.)
“Because they are.” We try to reassure her that it’s good practice for “real life.” “You might get a boss with impossibly high standards. You’ll be used to it.”
I don’t know if she buys it.
