Savannah is quiet on Sunday mornings. I don’t sleep in, because The Boy gets up at the crack of dawn. Every. Single. Morning. And he must come snuggle with me, which means singing little songs and pretending to be various animals and superheroes and aliens while somehow managing to kick me in the stomach and smash my boobs. Every. Single. Morning.
I’m pretty fucking cranky this morning. It rained all night long (I mean ALL NIGHT LONG) and now it’s cold. The kitchen was left a mess, which seemed okay last night, but now is incredibly wrong. Everything The Husband says this morning is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Every noise my child makes gives me the urge to scream. I just want to be left alone. And there are tiny red pimples on my forehead like I’m 13. According to my internal calendar, I should start some time tomorrow.
Fortunately, my Herban Cowboy is not an actual idiot, no matter what my hormones are telling me today. He leapt into action quickly, cleaning the kitchen, taking out the trash and recycling, and making a giant pot of coffee. THEN he made scrambled eggs and toast.
He has now escaped back to the Boy’s room, where they are watching something with Wolverine and drawing pictures of robots.
I feel like some sort of volcano goddess, who has spent the morning with the natives tossing virgins at me to appease my angry fire. But now I’m left alone with a full belly and a fresh cup of coffee. I am so, so spoiled.
Now that I have my brain for a minute I’m working out a plan for the day. The yard is wet from last night’s rains, and it will be chilly today, but the clouds are already clearing up and it should be beautiful by afternoon. There are some chores to catch up on: laundry & dishes, sweep & vacuum. Other than that it’s all fun stuff. Plant seeds. Pull weeds to feed to the chickens. Rake pine straw for mulch and the chicken yard. Pick chickweed to add to salad for lunch.
The thunderstorms started yesterday after we’d finished mulching all the veggie beds. I took a few pics…