Hot Weather. Late Nights. A Certain Amount of Insanity.
Some years ago, I read an exposé about over-achieving housewives on meth, which reported breathlessly that middle-class housewives were turning to methamphetamines to help them get more done. Trawling through the sordid details (She mortgaged her house without her husband’s knowledge. To get money for DRUGS!), I found myself thinking, “ Well, you know, she did get all the laundry done. And made adorable decorated sugar cookies. And cute rubberstamped grocery lists. And cleaned all the closets in the house. And color-coordinated all the sheets and pillowcases. And did really nice gifts for the kids’ teachers . . .”
I know. That way, madness lies. Not to mention a second mortgage. But here’s the thing. It’s really, really hot right now. So during the day, I’m incapable of any action more ambitious than eating slices of watermelon and listening to the kids argue over Knytt. But last night, under the light of a breathtakingly full moon, I cleaned house like a woman possessed. Then I made four loaves of zucchini bread. I did six loads of laundry. And I made myself a handbag from a pattern in a really cool Japanese craft book I bought in Seattle earlier this week. And a couple of lunch box carriers, from the same book (I’d tell you what it’s called, but I have no idea, being illiterate in Japanese).
And I did it on nothing but French Roast coffee from WinCo and my own insanity. When I finally got to bed, it was 3:30. The sky was getting light. The chickens were waking up. The kitchen smelled like zucchini bread and Mrs. Meyer’s geranium counter spray.
Life was good. Insane, of course. But good.