Monday, November 18, 2013

It's only eight days...

Mr Lannis has stolen the firearms and run away to hide in some tree fort in Northern Ontario for a week.

He calls this hunting. ::snort::


Do you know what that means?



You name it, it’s getting attacked. Closets, drawers, basement storage, everything.

I was into the Tupperware cupboards before he’d even walked out the door—all our containers and their matching lids were planted on the (now enormous) kitchen table, and anything without a match or if I couldn’t recall the last time it was used it went into the donation box.

Seconds after he left, I hit the fridge. This had me so giddy in anticipation that all morning I had butterflies flitting in my stomach...

No, really. Because lately Mr Lannis is on a no food waste campaign. And while I have no issues with such a campaign on principle (and truth be told it’s taught him how much he’s overloading the kids’ plates at dinner, so that’s been helpful), Mr Lannis is also wont to “experiment” with new condiments.

Bottles of which now line our fridge shelves.

Yep. But not anymore! /singsong


So yeah, I get to play single parent for the week while he goes gallivanting off in the bush. It’s a fair trade because my vacation is JordanCon come the spring.

I could be looking at this week with dread—I’m the sole parent for what works out to be eight days all told... all tasks large and sundry are on my shoulders—but when I think about how I get to tear apart the house purging it of crap, ditch the nobody-cares-for-them-but-had-to-try-‘em-once condiments, and (here’s the best part) not pick up after another adult who’s perfectly capable of putting the oatmeal back in the cupboard after he’s finished with it?!

Yeah. Looking around this house, I know eight days is too short...

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