(Not So) Productive

This morning before he went to work, George took Mason with him to Walmart. And me? I stayed here. By myself.

We've lived in this apartment for nine months now, and I've never been in it alone aside from the time it takes the two of them to walk down a flight of stairs to the mailbox. As soon as I realized I was going to have the whole place to myself, I began dreaming of a long bath, coffee (hot coffee, even) and a book on the balcony, catching up on the news.. heck, I could do anything I wanted.

So what did I do? I took a shower. Alone. No one threw bath toys at me and I didn't have to jump out of the shower's warmth to pull a dripping wet baby out of the toilet. I washed my face AND my hair. When I was done with my shower, I started to clean. By the time George and Mason came home, an hour and ten minutes later, I'd cleaned, vacuumed, and dusted the bedrooms and scrubbed both bathrooms. There was a load of laundry in the washer and one in the dryer. The dishwasher was running. With Mason following around behind me like a baby whirlwind of destruction, those chores would have taken me two days.

Since I was on a roll, I cleaned the kitchen and the livingroom during Mason's (two hour!) nap. The whole place was spotless. That never happens.

I appreciated a little bit of time alone, but now that I'm looking around at the toys scattered everywhere and the remnants of dinner all over the kitchen, I'm wishing I just would have sat on the porch with a cup of coffee.