Summer Madness

So, my summer has officially started, which is one reason why I'm a bit late with this post. Summer school began yesterday, and I didn't realize I'd be so tired from one little day of work. I do get home at around two in the afternoon, leaving me plenty of time for things, but I got home and kind of zoned out. I watched Mulan, which I'd never seen before, and then played FIFA 13, which I am terrible at. But I can sprint and slidetackle, and I think those two things can get my far in that game.

I also went a little crazy with the layout and fonts on this thing. My boyfriend's nephews were over the entire weekend and all they did was play the Wii, so I holed up in the bedroom and wrote, listened to music, and then played around with the blog. I like it. I wanted something summery, and the background reminds me of fireworks. Of course, living in southern California means that fireworks are a year-round event, thanks to Disneyland, but I still consider fireworks to be a mainly Fourth of July thing.

I should be writing. I really should be. But I've made so many typos just writing this post that I'm almost grateful for my laziness. There's also half a billion things I want to do, but I only have so much time before I have to go to sleep. How do you maintain a schedule in summer? I think it's hard, especially when I'm home at a weird time and wish to do nothing more than stare at a blank wall without thought. The good news is I can feel my inner OCD monster sniffing around, and I'm sure by next week, things will be back in order and I'll have some semblance of a schedule. And maybe I'll learn how to correctly spell schedule, because it took me four tries just to get the right way. Of course, that might be because I haven't written in a few days, and my fingers tend to get a little lazy when I'm not typing. They rebel against me, those little jerks.

Sometimes I wish I had Rosie, that robot maid of the Jetsons. I imagine that Jane had all the time in the world, because she didn't have to clean or even feed her children. No wonder George never wanted to hand over his money. That woman could have shopped for hours!

All right. I'm officially nuts. I'm going to go pretend like I'm writing when I'm really watching Pocahontas (I adore the fact that Netflix has most of the old Disney movies and will only get more). Next time, I swear that I'll be more pulled together. Maybe. Don't hold your breath.