This morning I basically waited around for my sister to pick up her corgi Cosmo who had been at our place since Tuesday night due to my nephew getting his tonsils out. He played some fetch with me and wrestled with his "Aunt" Layla.
It was maybe a little before 9:30 this morning when my sister came to pick up Cosmo. After she left, I got myself ready to go and then left. Once again there were a few cart's worth of stuff to get out on the sales floor. The manager's dog Trixie (presumably something terrier, but as far as I know, there's no way to confirm or deny it) had on a black-and-purple sweater. (Anytime I've seen that dog, she's had on a sweater.) She sniffed me a couple of times. (She must've smelled Layla and/or Cosmo on me.) There were also a lot of clothes to put out. It turns out we made barely over thirty-eight dollars today. It wasn't one of our better days, needless to say. I'll probably return tomorrow if not on Saturday since there's a project that I had promised the manager I'd get done before Monday.
I came home about ready to crash. Yet, after I hung up my jacket, put my purse in my room, and switched from my sneakers to my white satin slippers, I went straight to unloading the dishwasher (which I ran this morning) and then putting in what few dirty dishes were in the sink.
You know, it's kind of funny. I remember, at least in middle school, when I'd come home from school tired from the day, and yet not only would I have homework to do, but oftentimes my sister would have me do the dishes the minute I got home, something I resented. (At the time, our parents were in the process of a divorce, and we were living with our mom, who wasn't always able to be around due to work. So, you could say that in a way, my sister had to be the third parent.) Yet, here I am, at 24, coming home, not exactly ultra-perky, and yet one of the thoughts that comes up is, "Okay, I'm home. Time to take care of xyz." I'm not completely sure where that came from, except maybe from my mom, whenever she'd take care of fixing dinner almost immediatly after coming home from work (but part of this depends on my stepdad's schedule; if he's off at seven or earlier, she'll cook with that in mind. If it'll be nine before he's off, then she and I will usually eat dinner without him).
Does anyone else have that thing where they come home from work, school, etc. and regardless of how tired they may be, automatically switch into "household task" mode?
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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