Before TNC was even a gleam in my tequila-sodden eye, I used to have what I affectionately referred to as Stinky Sundays. Days where a bad hangover and/or pure laziness prevented me from showering for the entire day. And if you’ve seen my hair after more than 24 hours without being washed, you’ll know how frightening and oily this prospect is. These days, I’m showered by no later than 10am every day, including weekends, since I’ve been up for nearly 4 hours by that point.
But I went out on Saturday night and, according to our weekend sleep arrangement, which is similar to custody agreements between divorced parents (you get every other weekend but *I* get all holidays except Kwanzaa and Columbus Day. Or something), TNH got up early with the chillun’ and I got to sleep in. Eight blissful hours of nearly uninterrupted sleep. Oh, sweet gods. You smile on me once again. You must feel bad for that rain incident last week.
So I slept in until a whopping 10am and then, in the ultimate result, convinced hubs to take the baby out with him to do his shopping and whatnot so I could have the house to myself. I lured him with false promises to be showered and have the house clean when he returned. What I really did was eat a donut, drink coffee, surf the internet and read a book. I did hang up one load of laundry and write some Christmas cards though, so I didn’t completely lie. But showering kept getting put off because it would take precious time away from my surfing-reading-listening-to-the-radio-and-singing-in-my-pajamas merriment. So, remembering Stinky Sundays with great affection, I decided to undertake the timeless tradition once again. Ahh, it’s very liberating to know you look like hell warmed over and that your breath probably stinks but to not care and not do anything about it.
I needed a Stinky Sunday to remind me that even though I’m a mother, I am still myself as well, and I need to nurture that crazy, lazy woman sometimes too. Otherwise she might manifest herself as a ‘voice’ in my head and start compelling me to hit Somerfield employees upside their heads with the stupid sticks they already got beat with when they were born (UK readers will understand this).
But now that it’s Monday morning, my head is itching like crazy and the oil is practically dripping from my pores. I think this will be a looooong, hot shower.
December 11, 2006 at 5:37 pm
ah yes – this is what i refer to as “no shower sunday.” lying on the couch with coffee and a hangover, snuggled under a blanket, watching football and ordering in food. to hell with cleaning, bathing, cooking, or communicating with the outside world.
sometimes i think i need an excuse to NOT celebrate no shower sunday every single weekend….