Ugh. Monday. As much as I have enjoyed my 100 happy days thus far; I just knew Monday was going to test me.
Monday is New Bed Day and; as much as I adore a freshly made bed, that bed doesn't magic itself made, so there must be New Bed Day. I loathe making beds. I can dust, mop and clean until the cows come home but the thought if making beds makes me want to fling myself on the floor and howl like a two-year-old.
'I can help!' the Hubster beams at me; and I darkly mutter his utter estrangement to hospital corners and smooth sheets. 'Why not do just one bed each day then?' he suggests. 'Don't be so stupid! Then EVERY DAY would be new bed day!' Harrumph! Why did God make men so clueless?
With the air of an early Christian martyr bravely mounting the scaffold; I slog from washing machine to washing line and back again. I curse the clouds and dare them to spill ONE DROP of rain on my sheets. I make the beds - four of them! - and dust and Hoover the rooms.
Eventually, my bad-mood-propelled work is done. The beds are made, the old sheets are dry and everything is put away. That accursed chore is done for another week, and you know what?! That makes me so HAPPY!!!
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