And So The Week Begins

For once I would like to glide gently into the week, instead of feeling that I had been shot out of a cannon. My views on rising early during the summer holidays are well documented, and my family are aware of this, but still they persist with zealot like tenacity to get me out of bed at sunrise. Sidney comes marching in at the crack of dawn and whips up her shirt to show me her bathing suit underneath and proclaims "Look mum, I'm all ready for swimming " "That's nice dear" I reply groggily, "But the lessons don't start for another FOUR HOURS" . She is not to be deterred."Well, can I cuddle you instead?" the little keener asks. I am barely coherent, but I think I replied "Sure whatever, just let me sleep". Fast forward half an hour and I wake to a persistent buzzing in my ear, this time it is my son. "Mum, Mum,  swimming lessons start today, what time do you want me to wake you up ?" This boy is either fundamentally stupid, or possesses a Machiavellian intelligence that is way beyond me.

Knowing that my chances of slumber now lie between slim and five eighths of bugger all, I reluctantly head to the shower and then to the kitchen gasping for my first cup of coffee.  I notice that the dog food bowl is empty, and call upon Sidney to feed Badger. Apparently the dog food is so low in the bin that she can't reach it. It would have been nice to know this before Rob went grocery shopping, but still. Fine, I ask Grady to feed the dog instead and head gingerly down to the basement & my computer, clutching my little cup of nectar of the gods.  As I reach the bottom of the stairs, Grady hurtles out of the crawlspace screaming, and backs right into me. It is only due to my ninja like reflexes that I was able to save my coffee. "There are two mice in there" he hollers, panic stricken, waving the kibble scoop in the air. (At this point I'd like to digress and say "Curse you ! cousin Jen", who just told me on the weekend that she likes my mice stories the best !)  I am in no mood to humour the boy and I tell him to feed the dog, and avoid the mice. Honestly, for someone who wields a machete and is ready to face down an intruder, he is a bloody wimp when it comes to rodents. I blame his father.

He does manage to catch one of the mice in the plastic scoop and fling it to the far reaches of the crawlspace. I sympathise with that mouse, I feel that my week started the same way.  The fate of the second mouse is uncertain. For all I know - or care - he could still be in the dog food, I guess we'll find out tomorrow. Meanwhile when my erstwhile husband arrives home this evening, Grady regales him with tales of courage and daring. Rob however turns to me and demands to know why I allowed the mice to be let loose back in the crawlspace and why I didn't capture them myself and throw them outside instead. I can tell him exactly why. That crawlspace door is 18" wide and 3' tall, there is no way on earth I'm squeezing my ass through that in order to catch mice. I have just one word for my husband - Machete !