Rainy Day

I’m writing this on the couch, accompanied by a sick, sniffly Jake, who is busy watching Phineas and Ferb. Oh, September, the return to the petri dish that is the elementary classroom. Actually, the boys each had a minor bout of the sniffles during the first week of school, which turned out to be only a one-day affair, which I, sadly, made worse for Mark. His colds always morph into coughs, and I gave him some over-the-counter cough suppressant, optimistically thinking that this would actually suppress his cough. Instead, he continued coughing and just passed out on the couch for a few hours, feeling lethargic and pale for the rest of the day, and, eventually gagging on his own cough and barfing. Note to self: don’t try to medicate the children unnecessarily.

I’m hoping this cold is as equally short-lived as the first one; I’m still scarred from the cold-that-morphed-into-pneumonia event of 2011. I also have a hair appointment tomorrow and I don’t want to miss it – my roots are insane. I feel like a scarecrow, with orange straw-like hair and startling grey roots, but with non-ragged clothing.

In any event, I’m pleased that the colds are going on this week, instead of next week, when I’ll be out of town for the Blissdom Canada conference. I’m going to be out of town for five days, which is by far the longest I’ve been away from the kids. I’m getting pretty excited to see all my Yummy Mummies and bloggy friends – Hannah and Allison! – and as my excitement grows, my husband’s wanes. He’s always supportive of my endeavours, but I think he’s getting worried about the ensuing to-do list resulting from me not being there. I keep giving him little reminders about what needs to be done while I’m gone, and I think it’s starting to overwhelm him. I don’t totally blame him. After all, I didn’t do any laundry this weekend – I usually do a load a day – and the resulting laundry mountain was immense.

Buoyed by my kitchen reorganization, I’m newly motivated to reorganize and purge my entire house. I’m setting a goal to spend an hour a week reorganizing/ purging one area of my house for the entire winter. First stop: my closet. My closet is a cesspool of clothing, shoes, and bags. It’s really out of control. I oscillate between feelings of despair and regret – for the love of god, no one needs this many sweaters – and a feeling of complete unwillingness to part with a single thing. But I must part with a few things because my drawers and shelves are literally overflowing. And again, I’m faced with the question of how many of a similar item I need. Do I need twenty five black sweaters in different cuts, lengths, and trim? Do I need eight black t-shirts with different necklines, along with twelve black tank tops and seven pairs of black yoga pants? Should I consider buying something that isn’t black? What is wrong with me?

Right now cleaning out my closet feels like some sort of weird psychological experiment, or like I’m on a reality show where someone is going to admonish me for my clothing choices.


  1. Oh but if you look good in all that black, and your husband loves you in all that black, well I wouldn’t be tossing anything. It will be nice to say hello to you at Blissdom.

  2. I hope Jake feels better soon and you have fun at Blissdom. Maybe they will sell some black t-shirts there.

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