Being home means settling into a different routine. I’ve shared with you all a day in my life during the school year, but during the summer, things are a little different.
6:30am: Wake up to the sound of a parrot squawking loud enough to wake a dead man. No, I don’t live in the tropics. Yes, it’s an actual parrot.
6:45am: Roll out of bed and sleepily traipse downstairs where Dad has a five-course breakfast waiting.
6:50am: Eat some bacon.
6:55am: Regret having eaten too much of said bacon.
7:00am: Try to catch up on Wyoming news by reading the newspaper.
7:02am: Give up on reading the news and just flip to the advice column/horoscope section.
7:20am: Drive the sister to school. She sasses me because I listen to “hooligan music” (hip-hop). I call her an old person.
7:30am: Leave the school and head to Starbucks, still pajama-clad.
7:40am: Awkwardly encounter someone I know at the Starbucks drive-thru window and try to pretend that with last night’s makeup on my face I don’t look like I’m drive-of-shaming.
7:42am: Complain about lack of extra pump of vanilla in caramel macchiato. Wonder why I spend so much on Starbucks.
7:43am: Gasp at my own audacity in having ever thought such a thing. Mentally apologize to Starbucks for ever doubting her.
7:50am: Return home and sit in stupor, unsure of what to do all day.
7:55am: Decide to turn on TLC and do some blogging.
8:25am: Cry at conclusion of Say Yes To The Dress.
8:30am: Look at Pinterest wedding board and cry again over adorable mother-of-the-groom presents.
8:31am: Begin to wonder if I need to tone down the crying.
12:00pm: Judge myself for wearing pajamas all day. Decide to finally get dressed.
1:00pm: Meet friend at Starbucks. Tell myself I will only get iced tea since I’ve already been there once today.
1:01pm: Fold and get a very berry refresher. Tell myself that I’m investing money in our friendship, not in Starbucks.
2:50pm: Head to pick my sister up from school. Tell myself I will never let my teenage daughter dress like 90% of the girls I watch coming out.
3:05pm: Retrieve the sister and head home.
3:30pm: Get in the shower.
3:45pm: Get out of the shower and begin getting ready.
4:00pm: Blow dry my hair and snapchat a picture of me to my roommate with the caption “My obnoxious blow dryer.” Receive sassy response about how annoying my stupid blow dryer is.
4:20pm: Finish getting ready and head to help the parents with dinner.
4:27pm: Spill something.
4:35pm: Spill something again.
5:00pm: Eat dinner with the family, as Blitz and Beau the dogs try to “help.”
6:30pm: Brandon arrives at the house.
6:35pm: My dog jumps up on Brandon’s lap with the belief that Brandon is actually there to see him. I am forced to move to the other end of the couch to accommodate the pushy and large German Shepherd now on my boyfriend’s lap.
7:05pm: I finally manage to remove the dog from the couch. He lays on the floor and pouts. Brandon apologizes to him and sassily blames it on me. I see how it is.
7:15pm: Brandon and I settle in to watch Netflix.
7:17pm: I struggle to keep up with the plot of House of Cards. I ask him if every single woman on the show is “the hooker,” because I get all of the female characters confused.
7:37pm: “That is not the hooker!” Brandon says for the twelfth time.
7:43pm: I tell Brandon that I hope he doesn’t plan on killing people in his political career because I won’t help. He says he’ll try to keep the killing down to a minimum.
8:30pm: Lucy the Parrot decides it is time to begin “talking” again. I verbally sass her in hopes that she will stop.
8:42pm: I give up on the sass and give her a treat. Realize the bird and I both like to eat and talk. Wonder if I should have actually been born a bird.
10:30pm: Brandon says he has to head home soon. I complain as usual and stick my bottom lip out in an attempt to look sad. I probably look ridiculous but it somehow works because he says he’ll stay a little longer.
11:00pm: Brandon says he has to leave for real now. Stick out bottom lip again. No effect.
11:05pm: Brandon leaves, and I head to bed, too tired/lazy to take off my makeup. Looks like I’ll have walk-of-shame face again tomorrow.
How does your routine differ in the summer? Would you leave your house in pajamas just for a caramel macchiato?