We have power!
I cannot tell you what a relief it is not to see my own breath in the shower. Mike’s fish survived, but have been a bit limp since the outage. I think they’re brain-dead, which wouldn’t be so bad because my cats are already autistic. All we need are those mice that grow human ears on their backs and we’d be set.
One bright spot in all of this was the Christmas card we received from my mother. It had $100 inside and was addressed to, “Mike, Mona and Naton.” At first, I thought, “Naton?” But it makes sense because Nathan is half-white, half-rastafari.
And now that the power’s back on and I can feel my toes again, Mike wants me to help in cleaning the entire house before we go to St. Louis. Mike’s secret fantasy is that I turn into some white gloved clean freak. But it’s not possible. Growing up, my mom always cleaned my room and when she didn’t, I slept on the floor because my bed was covered with books. So the part of the brain the develops a capacity for order and cleanliness is overrun by the other part that makes me love Gilmore Girls and enforces my attention deficit disorder and never lets me complete anyth-LET’S EAT JUNIOR MINTS.
I know how hot and bothered Mike gets when he comes home and finds me scrubbing the kitchen floor. Once he told me I didn’t need to do that, but I said, “Of course I have to get on my knees! It’s the only way to get the place clean!” His eyes glazed over at me with a look I’ve only seen on geeks opening up limited-edition boxes of Magic the Gathering cards. But here’s my secret: most times, I just wait until I hear his car, then I scurry to find a rag and the bottle of Simple Green.
That is something I will probably keep out of the Christmas card.