Know what's cool about being a grown-up?

(That's being a grown-up according to my age, not to be confused with acting like a grown-up. I know you know this.)

You can decide that doing perhaps two moderately productive things when you come home is plenty. Then you can eat dinner and chill. You need not be productive all evening, 'cause I am the grown-up who lives here and I say so.

Spray some weeds and wash out the bird bath. Done. Time to chill.

Trim a few rose bushes and tidy up the lawn of the rocks that trickled into the grass from the new river rock installed in the flower beds yesterday. Oh, and replace the filter in the heater/air conditioner unit. That's three things! Done. Time to chill.

Okay, there was a fourth thing: do a little shiver dance on the lawn when you find yet another little blue robin egg shell all broken into and empty. Directive to the big, mean birds around here: "STOP eating the little blue robin eggs! Sad!"

But back to my story...

Now, granted, this system may work as splendidly as it does because I don't have another grown-up or any small-ups demanding anything from me, but don't let any jealousy you may have ooze out. That's a mess I don't want to clean up. 'Cause it's time to chill ;)

There are those weeks of insanity crammed with other commitments, of course, 'tis true. But this current come-home-system is makin' me pretty happy!

I may have just now embraced this new approach as a result of years of being conditioned that summer means I should not be working, or because my mom just retired and is doing exhausting things like going to lunch with friends and Disneyland with my dad. My brain thinks IT should be on vacation (permanent or otherwise), too!

There is also a new freedom about some things. Somewhere I did a post (maybe it was Facebook) last year about giving in and hiring a yard guy/gardener and admitting my utter disinterest and painfully slow learning curve regarding my yard. I love looking at the thing, but I feel no draw to do anything to it.

What a brilliant decision. It was part of a list of things I committed at the beginning of this year to NOT doing: I do not have to make myself learn to cook, love to garden, or be a better housekeeper. I am a working girl. There you go. "Freedom!" I cry, in my best William Wallace voice!

So, two or three chores, then chill! Ooh...I bet a Sonic Blast would help that along...ooh...