Tuesday: Day Off

So yesterday, I did not blog and this is because there is no blogging allowed in sweat shops.  While I did make it to swim yesterday, and Cosco with my parents and on to a very enjoyable lunch at the Jason's deli, once I arrived home, I was all business.

Ivan and I walked in the door, he took a nap, and I:

• wrote a time-intensive diagnostic report for work
• put together Ivan's big boy trundle bed
• took the crib tent (it is really a cage)  off of Ivan's current bed
• measured Ivan's room for the imminent acquisition of new furniture 
• cleaned out all of Ivan's drawers 
• made a surreptitious pile of clothes to be sent to goodwill lest seen by our family pack rat
• reorganized all Ivan's drawers
• cleaned out Ivans' closet and moved clothes to reorganized drawers
• laundry, laundry, laundry
• ironed 40 pieces of clothing

Just as a side note, would you like to know how many pieces of clothing that I own that actually need to be ironed?? zero, and by zero, I mean zero.  If the wrinkles won't come out from hanging it in the bathroom while I shower, then I sell it on ebay.  I do not have time for the terribleness of ironing.  My son and his father, however, own 1000's of pieces of clothing that they wear mindlessly, without a thought as to who might remove the wrinkles from said piece of clothing.  If I did not have more pride in the personal appearance of my family, I would insist that they all wear pajamas all the time.  I would take a select few ironed clothes to photo ops and make them all change right before the picture was snapped.  I would force them to remove their clothes immediately following the picture, get back into their pajamas, and hand me back the clothes to put on hangers.  I actually have in my possession right now, the name of a person who will iron clothes for a fee.  If her price is less than five million dollars per item, it seems WORTH IT.  

AS IT WAS, however, I ironed all afternoon and night until 9:00 PM.  It seemed that I stood on my feet for five hours, which I guess I did.  And of course, I am in my confinement, so my feet were swollen this morning.  After I stopped ironing, I put the finishing touches on my diagnostic report and got in bed and other than countless trips to the restroom, I slept the sleep of the dead.  

Now, in other news, this morning, I pulled open one of our kitchen drawers and the whole face of the drawer pulled off and fell on my toes.  Even through my cowboy boots, the drawer cut into the tops of my toes.  It was too late to change, and I gimped through the day with my swollen feet and my cut toes.  

I continued my rampant nesting today with a massive broken and Happy Meal toy clean out (two garbage bags), then cleaned out all magazines.  My New Yorker's seriously PILE UP.