The summerness of our summer has been somewhat neglected these past few weeks. You see, our house has become something of a Chinese Fire Drill. Or maybe a french farce. Or a French Fire Farce in Espadrilles with take-out Chinese. At any rate, there are comings and goings at all hours of the day and night and no one is ending up where they started.
We are getting the downstairs rooms ready to move into, slowly. I am reminded of that prank in college wherein we stapled Dixie cups together to cover the floor and filled them all half-way with water. Every time I go downstairs I see some version of those Dixie cups which needs to be dealt with before anything else can be done. Add to the equation the possibility that the people moving out might want to keep the Dixie cups once we get them all unstapled, because we are not sure if they're actually finished moving or not. So instead of moving forward, I come back upstairs.
Yesterday, after spending the day inside, I realized my children only had a month of summer left and we should probably do something about it. I didn't feel like cooking dinner (oh look, there's nothing but condiments in our fridge!) so I came up with a genius plan.
We went to Nauset Beach and got dinner from Liam's - a fried food and ice cream shack right on the beach. I never let the kids get stuff from these places when we're at the beach because I always pack a nutritious lunch in my picnic hamper and they will eat it, by golly. So last night was the grand exception. We sauntered up to the window and ordered all manner of fried food.
And then we had a picnic. I went in for an onion ring and Studley said "no! Don't eat that first! You have to eat your..." and we all looked for the thing that was supposed to pass as the nutritional linchpin. My kids surveyed the assortment of golden fried goodness in grave confusion. Was this dinner? Had they missed something? And then they ate. And then all three of us felt disgusting and went home.
Today I think I will work on the storage areas of downstairs. I have big packages of things for the five of us to share and don't want to put them away up here only to move them later. So I have piles of things like 75 rolls of toilet paper and economy boxes of trash bags and other dry goods making walls and tunnels in our livingroom while we wait for them to have a place to go. We are all starting to feel like white mice and none of us has a clue where the little peanut butter sandwiches are.
I am afraid they are behind the Dixie cups somewhere and am afraid to look.