Scattered

A lot is going on lately. I haven’t written about it because between all the details and the heavy-duty allergy meds I am taking so that I don’t go after my own flesh with a power sander, my brain is all over the place and I can barely string together a coherent thought, much less a passable blog post.

The good news is that my kitchen is finally done. The cabinets are back in place, and everything is so clean and pretty that I’ve almost forgotten the tears and sweat and swearing and handfuls of ibuprofen that got it that way. I want to move my bed into the kitchen so the lovely lavender walls and fresh white cabinets, illuminated by summer sunshine, will be the first thing I see when I wake up every morning. I’d totally do it, too, if not for the ants.

My house is no longer leaky, thanks to the new roof that my insurance company was kind enough to pay for, even though I didn’t ask them to since I didn’t know I needed it. The dripping skylights are gone, but the rest of the sunroom remains unfinished, and I seem to be having a lot of trouble reaching the contractor who came to look at it two weeks ago—the contractor who is supposed to be replacing the original contractor, who started the work last March but quit some time during the weeks while I was waiting for the snow to melt so the insurance adjustor could climb up and inspect the roof that I didn’t know needed replacing.

My mom had a birthday (happy birthday mom!), so the Goddess sisters had a birthday dinner and gift to plan and organize. And, of course, the Demis have only a few days of school remaining, so all sorts of wrap-up activities are going on as well.

A day after they finish school we’re heading to Upper Michigan to the lake, meaning that a case of cabin fever is severly compounding my scattered-ness. I’ve been compulsively writing and revising packing lists and menus, shopping for groceries and acquiring my requisite stash of trashy magazines.

Cabin trips are the only time all year when I’m willing to pay actual money for Us Weekly and People, and it’s all I can do to leave them unread until we get to the lake. Which makes it that much sweeter once I survive the drive, get the car unpacked, and can finally kick back on the porch, gaze out at the lake, sigh contentedly, and then dive headfirst into those pristine pages of glossy celebrity gossip. With a cold beer to wash it all down.

I’ve been to London and I’ve been to France, but there’s still no place in the world more beautiful than that.