Birds are singing on this beautiful Saturday morning, and now that I've rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and swilled my first cup of coffee, the day is taking on a luster that's been missing for the last few weeks. It feels like *gasp* a weekend!

The kids are all back to their normal, feisty selves. The talking, the TALKING! My ears are assulted by the constant stream of words swirling around, after the relative quiet of a sick house. I let the chatter wash over me, and occasionally pick out a phrase or two that requires a response. I suspect they did a bunch of thinking while they were sick, and they have to share it all now.

Actually, this must be how my hubs feels when he comes home at the end of the day. I corner him as he changes into his after-work clothes. I tend to overshare, at top speed, the drivel my day is built upon. His mind drifts while I babble, but it isn't like these monologues are for his benefit, anyway. I just have to hit the purge valve occasionally, to an adult audience, and he manages to let the words flow around him with good humor and well timed nodding.

So, here on this sparkling morning, I'm faced with a mountain of laundry, a kitchen that needs some hardcore lovin' and every other room in my house looking cluttered and weary. I also have to get Donna the dog's nails trimmed today, because she sounds like she's walking on spike heels.

My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees. Instead, I'm going to throw open the windows and send the last germs to the hills via the Clorox Express. The entire house has withered, and seems a bit depressed. The only thing to do, it seems, is roll up my sleeves and perk it up.

I marched into the public library yesterday and checked out a bunch of books to read. I plowed through Gregory Maguire's Lost yesterday, and could honestly spend the next week curled up on my chaise lounge, devouring book after book. Alas, the house requires attention, as does the family.

Inertia affects me, infects me. I've been dangling my wrist over the edge of my boat, enjoying the cool, still water. Now that the kids have started rowing again, my wrist is fishtailing alongside the boat as the water streams past. The motion quickens my pulse, but I'm reluctant to straighten my spine and pick up my paddle.

Probably because with my luck, that distant roar I'm ignoring means we're headed for rapids. Ooh! Or a waterfall. Or! A ravenous lion!

Tra la la! Susie Sunshine, reporting for duty :)