An abundance of activity peppered with sporadic productivity typically characterizes the environment in our home. The frantic hamster wheel, otherwise known as the calendar school year, rotates forward on some days at a manageable speed of controlled chaos, while on others it spins dizzyingly backwards, carrying us to the brink of bedlam. Running a busy household while admittedly running in circles is not a feat for the weak. Or for those terrified of rodents.
Summer days, however, are a stark contrast to the mommy madness that builds towards a hormonal crescendo as the school year mercifully ends. Granted, I always misguidedly begin the flip-flop season with good intentions. Ambitious projects that include organizing closets, cleaning out junk drawers and fumigating the playroom fall to more lofty goals like lounging by the pool, relaxing on the beach and playing infinite rounds of UNO.
The lazy bones in my body rejoice all summer. Out of hibernation they emerge, like a grumpy Mama Bear trapped in a domestic trance, demonstrating a languid and leisurely pace that makes Jabba the Hut seem hyperactive.
Summer time is lazy time. And it brings about great joy. All tasks that normally encompass my realm of responsibility fall drastically to the wayside.
Time to pay the bills? What’s the hurry, Mr. Utility Company? Threat of disconnection doesn’t concern me. Lack of telecommunications and lifestyle by candlelight is the glue that held the Ingalls together in the prairie.
Out of clean clothes? That can be remedied, small, dependent child, but it means all of the laundry mounds we have been jumping up and down in like a pile of Fall leaves will be but a distant memory.
What’s wrong with cereal for supper? As far as I am concerned, the Food Pyramid Police can keep their intimidation tactics and fancy posters to themselves. Our artificially colored preservatives can beat up your leafy, green vegetables any day of the week. And it doesn’t make us nearly as gassy.
Did we miss Sunday School again? Thankfully, grace covers us. There will be many jewels in your crown, Charles Stanley, for providing the Word via television, allowing us to faithfully watch while we ingest Cookie Dough Pop Tarts in mismatched pajamas.
I love laziness and it loves me.
But like that summer romance that lasted as long as the career of Milli Vanilli, the season will inevitably come to a dreadful end. Routine and responsibility will take the place of all things sluggish and slothful. Reasonable nutrition will again be considered. The washing machine will resume with its spiteful mediocrity. And the hamster wheel will be waiting.
But this year I’ll be running it in my flip flops.