No, really, it does.
If you can smell dirt, that means things are thawing. And its no longer winter.
(I hear choirs of angels singing - I swear. Oh wait - that's just the drunk neighbors hootin' and hollerin' over their green beer. Happy St. Pat's!)
I took the day off today to work on a few projects around the house. I have vacation time built up and with selling a house and buying another I'd be fooling myself to think we'd actually have time for a trip of any sort this year.
I got a head start yesterday afternoon. When I got home from work I scrubbed at the back (cement) steps with a wire brush before painting them.
Something like that sounds like a simple project until you add a four-year-old into the mix.
I mean, scrub, sweep, paint. What's that take, like an HOUR, tops?
"MOM! My baseball tee's broken!!!"
"MOM! Where's my football? This one's Will's football. I want miiiiiine!"
"MOM! Can you get my bike out of the garage?"
"MOM! I CAAAAAANNNN'TTTT DOOOOO IIIIIIIT!!!!" Followed by a WAAAAAH! and a Wah-hah-hah! and then WAAAAAAH! some more.
And if you think THAT'S bad? Oh, you should have SEEN the kid once he tipped his bike over.
Into the mud.
Oh lawdie. The kid's got an issue with mud.
"BUT I'M DIIIIRRRRRRTTEEEEE!!!"
I should have thrown mud at him.
Instead, like the mean Mom I am, I made him stand there, full of mud and crying so I could finish painting the last 12" of bottom step.
Total project time? 3 hours and 12 minutes.
I kid you not. It was cold and getting dark by the time we headed in. (Oh, and I'll just let you imagine the near freak-out Nick had when I teased him and told him we had to climb into the house through the window. Those pretty dark brown eyes went big as saucers I tell ya!)
So, off I go, to finish raking and edging. And painting. And scrubbing. And laundering. And...