Respite

I've been at the lake house for three days, which means I've been in vacation mode. It is so much fun to stay up late, sleep late, eat whatever and whenever I want, drink a bit more than I should (it's always beer-thirty at the lake), and - drum roll please - not have to do any housework.

Getting ready to come to the lake takes quite a bit of preparation (see blog dated May 31, 2009), but once here it is relaxation time. The cabin is small, requiring very little in the way of cleaning. Making the bed and washing up the few dishes we use is the extent of the cleaning that is required.

Most of our time is spent outside, either on the deck, at the dock or on the rock ledge that juts from the edge of our property toward the lake, where we usually enjoy evening cocktails while watching the sunset - the beautiful pink and orange sunset west Texas is famous for. (The sensational color is due to the dust, but I won't dwell on that aspect.)

Life is sweet and housework is minimal at the lake; until it is time to leave. That is when we must force ourselves out of vacation mode and kick into high gear house cleaning mode. We always put it off until the last possible moment, dreading both leaving our lakeside utopia and having to clean.

Strip beds, gather towels and dirty laundry, dust, sweep, mop, vacuum, clean sinks, windows, tub, counter tops, clean out refrigerator, pack up everything, stow away, put away, turn off, batten down, lock up and leave. We've gotten our exodus-cleaning down to about 45 frantic minutes.

Then the trip home, where we silently think about (or dread) our upcoming week of obligations and commitments. Arriving at home, unpack and the housework begins. Wash the sheets, towels and clothes so they're ready for the next lake trip and begin the mundane daily chores from which we've just had our mini-respite, and look forward to when we can do it again.