My nest isn't completely empty yet, but for the past two weeks I've been down two instead of just one. Birdie number three has been busy doing fireworks stands and concessions (during which she rather skillfully stalked the Jonas Brothers--such stalking included removing Nick's used straw from a watered-down drink left in their hospitality suite and helping a friend successfully impersonate Selena Gomez in order to extract intel from one of the security guards--I'm both mad and impressed) and the husband took birdie number four camping for a couple of days so it's definitely been a bit too quiet around here.
And when the birdies fly their friends fly too, so the loss is, well, exponential.
At first I was all about taking care of business (in fact, I completely bailed on the usual 4th of July festivities until last night--I know this is sick and wrong, but I just wanted to clean my kitchen). However I'm beginning to suspect that my usual rationalization for living in a state of manageable chaos is a rather good one:
The problem with getting things done is eventually they will all get done and if one doesn't have little (or even big) birdies around to undo it all, at some point one will run out of things to do.
And then what?