June 30, 2010

I Think I Need to Go to Time Out NOW

There are three of us in the Cleaver compound...and three computers. We each get our little acre of cyberspace all to ourselves. The Mister is usually holed up in his man cave (with various and sundry food items and beverages); The Boy is on the PC in the living room, where it is my pleasure duty to hear him chatter incessantly and laugh loudly (which, more often than not, means that he's reading something entirely inappropriate online).

I sit at the kitchen table with my laptop. This is the perfect vantage point for both keeping an eye on The Boy, as well as serving as head sentry over all the foodstuffs in the kitchen. One never knows when the marauding mob of ONE will come and eat all the food we have purchased (can one adolescent boy be considered a marauding mob?).

Another advantage of being in the kitchen are the constant and unending reminders of all the domestic chores I am neglecting during my self-imposed work stoppage. Believe it or not, this heightens my concentration when blogging, and has improved my score on Facebook's Bejeweled Blitz exponentially.

Oh, how I love the avoidance of responsibilities...it's a full-time job that I am more than happy to excel in.

My kitchen vantage point also provides me with with a lovely view of the TV, which may or may not be in use. Since we have no cable (and I've totally given up on getting any kind of reception from the TV antenna), the TV is now used exclusively for viewing DVDs. Most of these movies/animated features would NEVER appear on my Netflix list - yet I am able to "enjoy" each and every one of them, in living color and Dolby sound. I am just.that.darned.lucky.


Please don't envy me, it will cause you to wrinkle prematurely.

Oh, I should also tell you that I am sitting pretty close to the closet in the hallway that houses the furnace - are you getting the noisy picture here?

I have no QUIET, even though I don a headset most of the time while at the computer (hoping that some of the ambient sound, and hideous laughter) is filtered out.

So, in an attempt to have some quiet time, I sometimes sneak off to the master bedroom, where I lie on the bed and read, or do crossword puzzles, with the hopes of a quick (or not so quick) trip to dreamland.

Last evening (maybe about 7:15 or so), I retired to the bed for some puzzle time. After years of being ever-vigilant, my ears still perk up when I hear the refrigerator open, or when I hear dishes or silverware clattering. Right away, I ask The Boy what he is doing, and he replies that it is The Mister who is rooting in the fridge.

The Mister then brought his bounty into MY ONLY SANCTUARY THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE A PORCELAIN THRONE, and proceeded to EAT ON THE BED! The Mister is the noisiest.eater.ever. 

First, a strawberry jelly sandwich (I should take bets on how many blobs of jelly are now on the sheets), followed by potato chips, with their infernal CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH (and crumbs).

My concentration impossibly broken, I complain to The Mister. He tells me to go to the "cat room" (yes, even our cat has a room). Ah, the cat room! Where I can sit on the floor and smell the scent of baking-soda infused kitty litter (but think light on the soda, heavy on the litter). Apparently, the cat room is supposed to serve as a reasonable facsimile of my cave.

HARUMPH.

I return back to the kitchen. My conclusion? There is no quiet for June while the menfolk are awake. Is it any wonder why I nap during the day and stay up until the wee hours of the morning?

Now, my question to you... Am I being unreasonable to ask that I have some quiet time? Remember, the grownups are unemployed, and The Boy has time off from school.


WE.ARE.TOGETHER.24.HOURS.A.DAY.FOR.THE.FORESEEABLE.FUTURE.


Help me, Jesus.

The Boy has his own room, The Mister has his man cave, where he spends hours upon hours ALL BY HIMSELF. 

Where is MY cave?

Up until I figure something out, my cave sits in the driveway...waiting, in all its non-working A/C splendor. 

 

5 comments:

  1. First of all, that was an extremely visceral post. I totally got it.

    However, I got hung up on one concept and I almost couldn't finish reading the post.

    You actually get to go to the bathroom alone? Nobody knocks and asks you what you're doing or open the door?

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  2. I'm with her ^^^ You get to go to the bathroom alone???? Of course - my ex husband never actually bothered me...but he taught our son (almost 3) to come and not only knock but just barge right in to ask for whatever he or daddy wanted.

    Oh...I want better locks on my potty room!!!

    I understand...men...kids...they all seem to get "their" time...so why do we women have no PEACE and QUIET!!!! EVER!!!

    :-)

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  3. Even though you are in pain, you crack me up so much.

    You need some of those noise canceling headphones and a protective forcefield that zaps everyone who comes within 10 feet of you ... plus a lock on the fridge and cabinets that only you know the combination to.

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  4. You. Are a genius!!!!
    I have a rolling playroom called a Suburban. I'm getting an air mattress and a mini fridge for it.

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  5. I often wonder the same thing! Where is my cave? I do not get any time to myself with all boys in the house unless I lie and say I am going to bed and then I lie in bed and read or quietly watch TV. I have even been known to say I have to go to the bathroom and then sit in there, not using the bathroom, but instead playing games on my cell phone. Aaaahhh, quiet time.

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