Labor Day....

Around here, they don't call it that for nothing.

We usually tackle a project (or six) on this long weekend--since I worked the last two days, my part came in today when I went upstairs and sorted out that cat's cradle of crochet yarn in my closet, and said adieu to those clothes that I must now admit: I'm NEVER going to fit into them again--even if, in the words of my BFF's husband and buddy Steve--I started a diet in which I mainline meth and crack cocaine.

In fact, it's likely I'll never even fall into the single digits in dress size--three pregnancies--two of which were eight pounds plus--will do that to you. The hips laugh at me in the mirror and say, "Hell no we won't go." My goal is to at least zip my pants without the assistance of power tools. I'm almost there--almost.

The next order of business, I suppose, should be my office. I've already decided I'm moving it--to my closet upstairs. My children will never allow me to have one that looks like it won't be condemned by the Health Department. I've decided that my closet will be my new safe haven. There's not a room in this house that hasn't been overtaken by Bill and/or the kids. It used to be the kitchen (thanks, guys) but now Christopher can cook a little, and even Cate can microwave, so that's now been overrun as well. I get to go clean up after Christopher scrambles eggs--the boy spreads salmonella all over the counter when he cracks open an egg....

And last--tonight after the kids have gone to bed: the nightmare that is the playroom. Since they are outgrowing the days of playsets, it's all fodder for the Salvation Army. The only thing I will allow them to keep is their Littlest Pet Shop stuff--and I will look regretfully at it and wish I had all THAT money back. Most of the space will be replaced with the desks Bill is going to build next weekend for them. I may even be kind and hook up my old computer, if I can reload the system with the disk that came with it.

.....it may be a simpler solution than moving my office.

So--a more adult-friendly house; less kiddie crap laying around. No more skinny-girl clothes; I'll stop torturing myself.

Ciao for now.