Tuesday morning when the alarm sounded I had to wake my bed buddy (Chicky - my constant companion and nursemaid) to turn it off. Things I do every morning, like let the chickens down and set up their run, feed and water various animals, laundry, etc. I had to ask for help. Asking for help is hard for me. I hate asking and, in my opinion, there are only two ways of doing things, my way and the wrong way. Perhaps this is one reason why minions are hard for me to find.
With sunrise being earlier, the chickens want down from the coop earlier as well. It was already 7 am and they'd been waiting a while. I knew my only chance was to ask the boys before they sat down for breakfast. I did and there was bleary eyed confusion, but they went out and moved the ark and let the ramp down. There's also attaching the coop, but I knew better than to ask and be flatly turned down.
After breakfast is the normal hunting and gathering of clothing. I believe laundry should be folded and put away in drawers, but the peeps seem to prefer scavenging about the floor and various surfaces in their rooms and moaning about how they can't find what they need/want. My previous evening's suggestion of doing laundry has come back to smack them in the face - there are no clean jeans. I ask them to collect everything blue and start the washer, I won't be able to move it to the dryer, but I can make sure they do it when they come home and we might be able to squeeze another load in after that. They did it almost completely without complaint!
After slowly but surely packing lunches I was pretty over being on my feet, so I drove the peeps to school and came home to rest. Ice, ice, and more ice. Ibuprophen wasn't doing anything and I stopped taking it. I did watch many episodes of Friday Night Lights, a comedy, and started reading The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. A friend told me once you start it you can't put it down and she was right!
Richard came over to check on me later in the morning. While he was here he moved the laundry, set up the chicken run, went and fetched dinner supplies, and brought me lunch. It was lovely. Since we watch Mad Men together we decided to watch one episode after lunch. It was really about all the time I could stand sitting upright in a chair - even a comfortable one.
After Richard was gone I went into the rabbit hole of Pinterest for a while and took a nap. When Chicky arrived home I was very thankful for her company and her nursemaid abilities. She made sure I had my drug of choice - chardonnay - water, ice, and fixed my pillows for me. That evening she huddled down in bed with me and we watched a couple episodes of Parenthood (my new absolute favorite show) and a romantic comedy together. On my iPhone. The boys came in and made fun of us watching stuff on the tiny screen, but it worked and I was lying down. All good, as far as I was concerned.
I did get myself out of bed to make dinner, the peeps did the dishes, worked on laundry. I.e., got the load out of the dryer and put it on the sofa. This seems to be the preferred gathering place for laundry. I used to put it somewhere they wanted to sit so they would be more inclined to fold it, but they just changed their preferred sitting preference.
Other than that, everything I ask them to do, they did. Mostly without complaint. It made me feel all warm inside, like they really were growing up and being more responsible. And they really cared. That was when the idea of them being my minions started to solidify. Question was, would they do my bidding more easily after I was healthy since they've had all this practice?
With sunrise being earlier, the chickens want down from the coop earlier as well. It was already 7 am and they'd been waiting a while. I knew my only chance was to ask the boys before they sat down for breakfast. I did and there was bleary eyed confusion, but they went out and moved the ark and let the ramp down. There's also attaching the coop, but I knew better than to ask and be flatly turned down.
After breakfast is the normal hunting and gathering of clothing. I believe laundry should be folded and put away in drawers, but the peeps seem to prefer scavenging about the floor and various surfaces in their rooms and moaning about how they can't find what they need/want. My previous evening's suggestion of doing laundry has come back to smack them in the face - there are no clean jeans. I ask them to collect everything blue and start the washer, I won't be able to move it to the dryer, but I can make sure they do it when they come home and we might be able to squeeze another load in after that. They did it almost completely without complaint!
After slowly but surely packing lunches I was pretty over being on my feet, so I drove the peeps to school and came home to rest. Ice, ice, and more ice. Ibuprophen wasn't doing anything and I stopped taking it. I did watch many episodes of Friday Night Lights, a comedy, and started reading The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. A friend told me once you start it you can't put it down and she was right!
Richard came over to check on me later in the morning. While he was here he moved the laundry, set up the chicken run, went and fetched dinner supplies, and brought me lunch. It was lovely. Since we watch Mad Men together we decided to watch one episode after lunch. It was really about all the time I could stand sitting upright in a chair - even a comfortable one.
After Richard was gone I went into the rabbit hole of Pinterest for a while and took a nap. When Chicky arrived home I was very thankful for her company and her nursemaid abilities. She made sure I had my drug of choice - chardonnay - water, ice, and fixed my pillows for me. That evening she huddled down in bed with me and we watched a couple episodes of Parenthood (my new absolute favorite show) and a romantic comedy together. On my iPhone. The boys came in and made fun of us watching stuff on the tiny screen, but it worked and I was lying down. All good, as far as I was concerned.
I did get myself out of bed to make dinner, the peeps did the dishes, worked on laundry. I.e., got the load out of the dryer and put it on the sofa. This seems to be the preferred gathering place for laundry. I used to put it somewhere they wanted to sit so they would be more inclined to fold it, but they just changed their preferred sitting preference.
Other than that, everything I ask them to do, they did. Mostly without complaint. It made me feel all warm inside, like they really were growing up and being more responsible. And they really cared. That was when the idea of them being my minions started to solidify. Question was, would they do my bidding more easily after I was healthy since they've had all this practice?
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