The 4-day weekend

We have a dungeon. It's my deep, dark secret, literally. It's where we keep all the decorations and tools and appliances and empty boxes. We also keep the kids down there. Except we don't have kids. Just classrooms. Preschool classrooms. And we like to have our own stuff for teaching. So much stuff people say we should have our own school. (They should stop though--it's never gonna happen.) And as a highly organized, extremely compulsive person, I have shelves lining the walls, perfectly sized boxes with labels and a spreadsheet of what's down there. But that doesn't mean I have put them to any use--I am perfectly content with opening the dungeon door and letting whatever it is roll down the steps. C. goes down there every day to use the stationary bike while he plays video games--he can pick up the pile. (And it just so happens that the washer and dryer are down there and I don't do laundry, so he gets to do that too!) Anyway, I digress...

I refuse to call it a basement. Basements are places that are somewhat finished, clean, orderly, liveable--this one does not fall anywhere in my scale of liveability. But this past week we had a 4-day weekend, thanks to Derby being a holiday in our city, and I decided it was time to tackle the dungeon. After all we have only lived here 3 1/2 years. Wednesday, I put it on my calendar, and C. said "Good for you!" Thursday, when I talked about it, C. said "Great idea!" Friday, I made a list and C. just rolled his eyes. Saturday, I slept late and then had to get lunch and watch the Derby. By then he said "You're not going to do it, are you?" Well, that is a challenge alright, so Sunday morning, bright and early -- OK, noon, but that's early for me! -- I opened the door and stepped into the abyss.

Footsteps behind me...Dang it! C. is not supposed to be helping me. This was my time, I have a stack of DVDs waiting for me. Boston JBT? Front row Joyful Noise? GMA Concert Series? As soon as C. took a break, I practically ran for the DVD player. Aaahhhh, the only thing that could help me through this drugery was that Voice. Unplug, switch on, plug in, wrong cord, new cord, remote control, dead batteries, hands shaking--there really is a reason it's called Clack. Fi.nal.ly.

9 hours later, my nails are broken, my feet are aching, and there are 10 tons of recycling in the back yard, but we can see the floor and I got to spend all day with Clay. Maybe my husband was onto something--quiet, dark, cool, alone with your favorite hobby...maybe the dungeon will turn into a real basement if I spend a little time down there each day. ;)