Apr. 11: Bzzz.

To understand the magnitude of our accomplishments around the house this weekend, you’d have to also understand how little we normally do around the house most weekends. And I’m too embarrassed to admit that, so just use your imagination, alright? But I will show you photo proof of one accomplishment: I took our Christmas cards off the back of our front door.

I hate taking the Christmas cards off the back of our front door. It makes me sad every year, so I always put it off and put it off, and people point and laugh and I don’t care because I LIKE seeing happy, smiley faces on the people I love! I wrote a whole post about this task last year, in fact. In August. Yes, August. And here we are, not even halfway through April and I’ve already taken the cards down. You could say this is me growing, or maturing, or working my way out of my extreme laziness, or maybe I just grew tired of seeing all the happy, smiley faces of y’all. I don’t think any of those things are true. I just done did took dem cards down.

Before:

After:

So boring, I know.

The other day when I did 17 loads of laundry, I was working off the energy the steroids give me the few days after chemo. I guess I still had a little bit of that energy yesterday and today, because I had a hard time sitting still. I did more laundry, ironed an armload of shirts, cleaned bathrooms, organized cupboards and cabinets and closets, sorted piles of mail and magazines, and TOOK YOUR FRIGGIN’ CHRISTMAS CARDS DOWN.

Victor was even busier. He washed the cars yesterday inside and out—my car actually had algae growing on it. He hung shelves in Jack’s room, installed hooks and a couple towel racks in our vanity area, fixed the deck rail boards that had come loose, worked a bit in the yard, assembled an IKEA table, helped me with some cleaning, and did a ton of recycling.

Busy bees, that’s us.

Earlier this evening, the pain I always get when coming off the steroids started to set in. It’s weird how it begins in my jaw area and I can actually feel it slowly move down my body. Right now it’s just below my shoulders. The next two days will suck with grouchiness and hurting. I hate this stage; this week I will most certainly be praising the scientists who invented the wonder that is Vicodin.

And for the next couple weeks, I’m going to look back on this weekend and be glad that I used the energy while I had it to do things that needed to be done around the house. Because if you expect me to accomplish anything worthwhile before I’m back on the prednisone, you haven’t been paying a bit of attention now, have you?

 

P.S. If Fancy Lori™ or Kim F’n start in about the races they ran today—probably before doing an entire weekend’s worth of chores around the house, knowing them—you have my permission to stab them. Sorry, Girls… I love ya, but I’ll never keep up.