Sunday, March 10, 2013

I Would Have Done Such Wonderful Things

Such wonderful things with that golden hour that was taken from us today. I know that complaining about something to do with clocks is zzzzz but there it is. I kind of lost the hour in which I was going to blog a real post.

What I did instead of blog with the limited time available to me today:

Woke up late, still at the mountain house. Farewelled Matt's departing family.

Had some coffee and ate supper leftovers for brunch. Didn't want to take a lot of food home.

Started reading Death Comes to Pemberley by PD James. If you are an Austen fan, you would really like it. Usually when someone attempts to imitate Austen's style and tone, it makes me feel a deep, deep sadness. But not in this case.

Texted with four people to find out what was going on, in real time, with our Sunday team's tennis match today. The news was mixed.

Played a board game that Laura had spent the morning making. It involved buying lottery tickets to get ahead and win. Hmm.

Stripped/made a bed. Policed our area and gathered our belongings. Cleaned the kitchen. Directed children through the sub-par performance of cleaning jobs. While Laura was on her knees cleaning something off the kitchen floor, she said, "I feel like Cinderella!" Matt said, "Only the Cinderella who always gets to go to the ball? And doesn't ever work?" I chimed in that there was a name for that Cinderella--it's the evil stepsisters. Laura harrumphed.

Then I gave Hank some glass cleaner and some paper towels, and honestly, watching a young child attempt to clean a pane of glass is just something. Something character-building. I showed him how to do it better and then we did it together and a lot of paper towels died in the process.

Read some more while Matt and the kids had one last hot tub.

More light reading.

Shut down the mountain house and locked the door behind us. It is always strange to me to think of it sitting there, cooling down, empty and waiting, the rays of sun traveling across the rooms day after day and nobody there. Except the ladybugs, who are wintering in the corners.

Sat in the passenger seat and provided color commentary on all of life while Matt drove us home to Atlanta.

Played a little Rock Band 3 with the family. Found that child bedtime came quickly, more quickly than the kids felt was just. Matt announced, like the closing-time bartender, "You don't have to go to sleep but you can't stay here."

Watched an episode of Game of Thrones with Matt. Watched the very first episode again because now we know who the heck everyone is.

Sat in bed and instead of blogging, let Matt show me some of the new parts of his game, Dungeon Blitz. It's looking great.

Wrote this post.

Tomorrow morning's wakeup is gonna be tough. xoxo


Maggie May said...

I love looking at exactly what someone- almost anyone- does for their day. It's immensely satisfying. THank you :)

Common Household Mom said...

i like posts about clocks, especially if the post is deploring this awful exercise in time shift.

The morning wake-up was indeed brutal, with the son needing to be at the high school at 6:50 which is really 5:50 which is too early for anyone to think about chemistry or anything else.

delaine said...

Sounds like a good relaxing weekend. Wish we could have been there! Good luck with your match this week.

Christian said...

"Usually when someone attempts to imitate Austen's style and tone, it makes me feel a deep, deep sadness" is my new favorite sentence for a longstanding problem.

Elizabeth said...

Well, you've managed to make even the quotidian interesting. I especially loved the sentence about the house all closed up and the light slanting in day after day with no one there. That was beautiful.

Nina said...

Boringest comment ever: there are these microfibre things called E-Cloths that prevent paper towel massacres. They come in a pair for window cleaning, a fluffy one that washes and a smooth one that dries, and you don't need any glass cleaner. I'm here to bring you, as they say on Eurosport, the informations that you love.

Star said...

The mountain house sounds lovely. What wonderful experiences and memories.

Beth said...

Clarification: did you strip yourself and then make the bed? Cuz that is hawt.