Weeding and mopping and laundry, oh $#!&!!!

So we’re finally getting settled into the new house in Denver. I’ve spent more time driving (both cross-country (twice!) and around town) in the last several weeks than just about anything else, and I desperately need a rest. Christian, for various reasons (including not wanting to drive), doesn’t have a U.S. license, so I end up zonked at the end of any trip. Two trips in two weeks just about did me in.

So I needed a rest. And what did I do today? Oh, weeded a patch in our vacant-lot-like backyard (at the rate of about a square meter an hour, I think – it’s that bad…), did two loads of laundry, dishes, mopped the wood floors upstairs, … Aaaaaargh.

And now, I’m exhausted and sitting down to get some research done. Yes, I know, blogging doesn’t count as research. Bah.

Don’t let the above chores fool you – I am no one’s housewife (if for no other reason than the fact that my husband has some very good motivation for nicknaming me “Entropy”). With this in mind, it is sad that house-related chores are making me feel distinctly like a grownup in exactly the ways I do not want to feel like one; for example, now that we have the first washing machine physically located within our combined residences in six years, I have decided I love the washing machine more than almost anything. If I weren’t already married to my husband, I think I’d marry the washing machine. Do you know what a thrill it is not to have to cart loads of laundry (by bike) over to the laundromat once a week? To have clean clothes on demand? Do you understand how sick it is that I am excited about a household appliance? And don’t even get me started on the dishwasher.

Mmmm. Dishwasher.

Someone help me. Seriously.