Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Cinderelly, Cinderelly...

I would just like to know who is supposed to do all the chores around here now that Chicken Little has moved away?

This is how I spent my Sunday:

Making pancakes - if CL were home, I feel certain that someone would have made breakfast for the fams before I got out of bed. (BTW - the trick to a perfect pancake is waiting to flip them until those bubbles pop.)

Unloading the dishwasher... really?? Where does this stuff go? I don't remember how to do this. At least since she's gone, it takes several days before it's full enough to run.

Oh, the glamorous life! Poop-scoopin' duty! Jealous?? (just keepin' it real, folks)


A little Fall decorating outside...



...and a little decorating inside. This part was fun, but why bother? No one is here to appreciate it. heavy *sigh* and mopey face

Somewhere in here I also went to the grocery store, paid a couple of bills, folded a load of laundry and cut back/cleaned out the back yard flower beds and 1/2 of the beds in the front. Oh woe and weariness, poor, poor, pitiful me... ;-)



Finally, Prince Charming rode in, took a little pity on my Cinderella soul... and cooked dinner. Yes, that is THREE roasted chickens you see. PC's traveling quite a bit, and he's trying to make sure I eat something other than cereal for the next couple of weeks. I can cook, but I don't like to - especially when it's only me. Besides, the man is a professional, so it's better for everyone to just stay out of his way and be appreciative!


Anyway, PC made enough for our dinner (just the two of us even though there are three plates out - it's a habit), and enough left over for salads and sandwiches and maybe even chicken salad later this week. YEA!

CRASH! Back to reality.... did you see those dirty pans? Who do you think did the dishes?

Chicken Little, my sky is falling!!!

Just to be clear - this post is not about implying PC did nothing - he did! In addition to dinner, he did the man-stuff: mowed, edged and weed-eated (is that a word?). This is simply my angst around the loss of the live-in child-labor I used to have.