There is one thing you have to understand about my job. I am an accountant, but not a CPA. So I have a week a month where I am busy closing out the previous month, and then one month of just hell. You are goinggoinggoing, non stop it seems. And when the year end deadline approaches, no one is ever done and you are just slamming to get everything accomplished.
My deadline was yesterday at 5pm.
When I got home around 8pm (because we blew the deadline by a few hours) I was tired, sick, and ready to crash. My sweet, sweet Workaholic made me dinner (Charlie was already in bed) and granted me permission to do what I really wanted...to go to bed.
So that is exactly what I did...I went upstairs, washed my face, brushed my teeth, took some NyQuil D (LOVE it!) and went to bed. A short while later, daddy had to bring Sam in to see that indeed, mommy was asleep. She whispered, "Nite mommy, I love you." Aww....
I am wondering if that was the last time he saw her for the evening.
You know that stereotype where the kids go wild when daddy is in charge? Yeah....
When I got up this morning, refreshed from my 11 hour sleep, this is what greeted me....
Living room? Trashed.
The living room was typical, toys EVERYWHERE, except perhaps for the contents of my purse were also on the floor. How did she get to my purse?
The kitchen...ah, the kitchen. The taco meat was still in the skillet on the stove. (Did I mention we got a cat? More on that later.) The garbage was pulled out of its cabinet and overflowing. The countertops were completely covered with dishes and paper towels and other various crap.
The basement had days worth of toys strewn everywhere, which really wasn't anything new, except the contents of the bar refrigerator had been emptied into Sam's shopping cart.
So I get up, and go down to the kitchen, and just sigh. It was at this point that Workaholic tells me, "Oh yeah, Sam's room smells like shit. The cat got locked in there and pooped (had diarrhea) under her dresser. She must've gotten into something."
First of all, the cat is a he. His name is Sampson. But that is another post. Second, I wonder what it was he got into? Perhaps that taco meat left out all night on the stove??
But the best part? All of this was done because Workaholic fell asleep on the couch. He let Sam nap until 8pm, and then just couldn't hang. So SHE stayed up until 1am, and he was randomly woken as she whacked him on the chest and giggled.
I gotta say...its all OK. They had a great night together, no real destruction was done, and he completely cleaned everything up in the morning.
Way to live up to the stereotype sweetheart. I guess they DO exist for a reason.