And So It Begins

There I was, laying back in my giant recliner chair, the drone of Sunday Night Football lulling me to sleep, when I was suddenly awakened by a loud squeak behind me.
    "When are you going to clean the living room so I can start my Christmas decorating?"
    "Um sure, first thing tomorrow."
    "I want it now!" the squeak continued.
The funny thing is that no matter how much you try, if I am not ready to do something, it won't get done. The last time I gave in to Mark's cajoling, I put his new medicine chest up crooked. It is still hanging there in his bathroom, two years later, as crooked as a politician. If you want me to do something right, you have to let me do it in my own time. My own time runs much slower than most time, but things do get done eventually. So Monday afternoon I was laying back in my giant recliner chair, the drone of an old TMC movie lulling me to sleep, when I suddenly bolted upright in the chair. Crap, I'd promised Mark I'd clean the living room. Mark was out shopping, something he does a lot of in the months before Christmas. I knew he'd be home soon so I put it in gear. It's amazing how much you can make it look like you've been doing a lot in a short time. I moved three chairs out of the living room, took one minute. I moved the little table by the front door, took thirty seconds. I dragged the vacuum out of the closet, grabbed the broom and dust mop and propped them up in the living room, and then I sprayed a lot of Lemon Pledge around the room, all in a few minutes. Just in time too, because Mark came storming into the house as I was preparing to sit back down.
    "Go out and get my packages out of the car." He announced as he looked around the living room, pleased with what he saw.

Next time I'll tell you all how I can make it look like I've been working my ass off in the yard simply by rearranging a few lawn chairs, and spraying a bit of water on my face and under my arms.