Today I dropped the kids at school and then came home to clean the house because I stupidly told the contractor who’d done our remodel that I would be a reference and then she actually used me as a reference and I was so effusive over the phone to the retired Frenchman who phoned me last week that he asked if he could come by today with his wife to see what my contractor had done.
I cleaned Erin’s room, which was less a room and more a place-where-toys-go-to-die, and I cleaned Adrian’s room, which was a place-where-the-cardboard-castle-Emily-had-made-went-to-get-bent-out-of-shape. I swept throughout, picked up clothes that I have a tendency to just throw anywhere (I think there was a sock in the kitchen) and pretended like all the clothes had been in the laundry room the entire time just waiting for me to get around to them.
I did the dishes, which, no matter how often I do, always seem to pile up in the sink. I didn’t clean the countertops, because screw these people: I wasn’t inviting them over to eat. In fact, the guy had been kind of insistent in his request and I’d tried to say “Look, it’s not a show home; we paid for “move in” condition and that’s what we got.” I didn’t add that I don’t like people in my house, but I don’t.
I finished cleaning to my personal satisfaction with about ten minutes to spare before the couple arrived.
They came, we spoke, they saw, they went. I think they’ll hire my contractor. Yay. Don’t call me anymore.
Then I found out that someone on Twitter whom I follow went to my high school but graduated a year before I arrived, but I totally went to school with her sister but I don’t remember her because I don’t remember high school but her sister remembered the girl I had taken to the senior formal (and hated her) and my high school girlfriend’s family (and didn’t think much of them) and my friend in the UK who was not always in the UK. Then my friend in the UK was all “and these people are on Twitter too!” and one of them was a guy who moved to Australia before I started at that school but apparently I went to school with his sister the whole time I was there but I don’t remember names because I am awesome.
This has been a five minute blog post that I took seven minutes to write because those hyphens in the sentences up above do not mess around. I should call it “Seven Minute Blog Post” but then I’d have to go back and change the title and now it’s eight minutes anyway.
Blogging does not take time. It takes a keyboard.
9 thoughts on “Five Minute Blog Post”
Eight minutes of hyphenating genius.
How about photos posted on Flickr? I'm just sayin'…strangers in the house during the day? Not happening in my world. Here, French dude–here's a link to the photos of my house.
Wet iz dis "fliqueur" you are talking aout?
You must have taken Mavis Beacon teaches typing or something since your last post because there is alot more words for 5 no 6 no 7 no 8 minutes of typing then there was for 3 or was it 2 and you were just teasing us. It all starts with 1 and it's the loneliest number.
Hey do you like the music group They Might Be Giants? They have some cd with kids songs. Here Comes the ABC's and Here Come the 123's. I don't know why I even brought that up but hey I'm kind of random like that. Oh yeah, it was because we were doing the whole counting thing.
Triops has three eyes.
I totally feel like I was reading a post written by a 16 year old girl!! LOL
You were. Braid my hair! LOL roflmao.
Wait, she didn't hate me? Score.
She didn't hate you.
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