A week or so ago Kristin and I agreed to indulge in something so decadent, so tantalizingly lovely, so sweetly fulfilling that we could barely contain our excitement as the chosen day grew closer. In fact, when at Thanksgiving dinner my grandfather overheard us talking about it, he grew very concerned, thinking that if we were going to be doing something this indulgent, it must mean that I was sicker than had let on, because only if I were on my deathbed could he understand this kind of profligate waste of money.
On Friday we...
paid someone ELSE to clean our house.
It's true. I KNOW! I can't believe it myself. People, our house is CLEAN!
I, of course, had to work that day, so I didn't get to witness the marvel myself. And that is actually a blessing, because Kristin was home, and though we spent all of Thanksgiving day (except when I was getting drunk at dinner) cleaning and putting things away, still our house was filthydirty and Kristin felt so embarrassed at how we were living in filth, and how monumental the task of cleaning our pig sty was, that she pitched in and helped clean, too. She and the housekeeper worked for 5 and a half hours, but by the end of it the house was sweet-smelling and shiny. Our toilets haven't gleamed like that since they were new. Our faucets are blinding in their brilliance. And the floors... oh the floors were so spotless I could weep. The next morning Julia dropped her string cheese on the floor and when I picked it up it was free of dust and hair! I handed it back to her (like I always hand it back to her)and this time I wasn't filled with guilt over letting her eat dog hairy food.
So, that was Friday. By the end-of-day Friday our house was clean, all the laundry was done and folded, and all the standard tasks that fill our weekends were completed. Saturday we bought a leaf-blower and blew all our leaves away while Julia toddled around the yard and picked up horse chestnuts. Saturday night was grandparent's night and so Kristin and I got to have a date, which was only slightly flattened by the phone call informing us that Julia had been dancing with her cousin by my parents' fireplace, and had stumbled, banging her forehead into the sharp edge of the stone hearth, and had a giant goose-egg and bruise marring her little face. And we were planning on Christmas and family portraits this week!
Sunday I re-calked the upstairs bathtub, changed out the two deadbolts on our two exterior doors, installed a new water filter, winterized our swamp cooler, and filled some of the cracks in our hardwood floor. And the whole time we managed to keep our house clean! This is a miracle! We're challenging ourselves to see how long we can keep the place clean now that we're finally (after over a year) ahead of the housecleaning game.
In other news... after spotting for 5 days (one brief spot of bright red, the rest dark brown) I have NO IDEA what day of my cycle I'm on. I wouldn't consider that spotting a period. But I'm not pregnant. If that wasn't a period, then I'm on CD31. If that was a period, then I'm on CD9, unless it wasn't a period until the bright spot, and then if the period started with the bright spot, then I'm on CD6... and, of course, all weekend the RE's office was closed. I'm giving them a call in approximately 5 minutes. I'm so confused. I can't tell you how many sticks I peed on all weekend thinking that I HAD to be pregnant. I just had to. But I'm not. It's been 21 days since we inseminated. I'd have gotten a positive HPT by now. So it's just my body, fucking with me again.