That's Swedish...for Particle Board

Ah, the life of a domestic diva...sleep late, watch TV, cook occasionally, generally not do much of anything. Frankly, my life is starting to fall into this pattern, and while I lurrrve it, it is also an indicator of the fact that I sorely need to go back to work.

Structure! Normal bedtimes! Regular meals! That's what I need.

To this end, I have started to plan for going back. With only 3 classes a day, you'd think that it wouldn't be that bad. And in one way, it really isn't. But it's been a looong time (try Teacher's College other than a 3 week stint 6 years ago) since I've taught classroom music, and I have a real need this year not to screw up. The rest of my job will be learning curve enough. I don't need what I'm supposed to be trained in to be crazed and time sucking as well.

I am officially starting to drive J nuts with all of my songs and finger plays and line up chants and body percussion doohickeys and so on. I was showing him glove puppets today that I made in music school and have never used, and he wanted to know if I was going to have fun, or if the kids would. My answer was both. And I stuck my tongue out at him. I'm so mature.

But while I listened to CDs of tacky accompaniment music that came with my new books, J moved his wardrobe into a new armoire. A couple of weeks ago, the bar in his old armoire fell when someone (*cough* me) shifted a shirt and the hook into the wall broke off and fell. Suddenly, I needed to clean my office stuff out of the guest room so that J could fill the room with his clothes. It's a good thing that we don't have many guests...the room is constantly the emergency staging area for the latest upstairs disaster in the house.

The armoire we had didn't owe us much, and as a piece of IKEA furniture was pretty cheap to begin with. So we went shopping for the new, stronger, bigger, huger armoire. It is all those adjectives, and black. It also matches nothing in our bedroom. It's the latest in eclectic chic. But it also holds more of his clothes, and I'm going to put in the basement the shelves that I have hated since they entered my house a year and a half ago. I am slowly reclaiming the guest room, one drawer at a time, and it thrills me to no end. Sooner or later, I will also find space for J's suitcases, blankets and bits and pieces that cover the blanket box, and generally fill every nook and cranny of the room. I think it's called moving into a new house where he'll have an office and I'll never go in there.