Itching

This morning I am itching to do something.  I want to go to the Renaissance fair, but it is supposed to be hot and poor air quality today, of course.  I am still toying with the idea?  I can always leave if it gets too bad right?  I do have stuff I need to do here....did I just say that?  I want it to be Fall, when I walk outside the leaves are already falling on the ground and are crunching and the smell is of wet leaves.  The orchards are opening and apples are a good sign of Fall.  I don't want to sweat anymore....I don't like Summer.  I do know however without Summer there would be no flowers and and, mosquito's and bees and tell me again oh yeah flowers, and I do love flowers.  I want to go to a farmers market this morning.  I think I am in a restless state right now, and this could get scary.  I could clean the hou....nevermind, bad idea, housecleaning makes me sick, you know asthma and dust and ew unhealthy.  Housework is over rated anyway.  My mom used to move the furniture to vacuum behind it every Friday, I hated when we had off of school because we had to help.  I always say no one ever says at a funeral, "they kept such a clean house!"  I am going to say that at me moms funeral I promise!  I don't remember having to clean our room because we never played in it, our house was always magazine staged.  Right down to the plastic runners, let me tell you how much I hate plastic protective anything!!!!  You will never find any protective cover on anything I own and tend to peel it off even when I don't own it.  When my brother and I were bored we would turn the runner over and pretend we were walking on a bed of nails, the other side of the plastic had these pointy plastic prongs, no wonder I have feet problems.  One time we forgot to turn it over and my dad walked on it and we were rolling on the floor laughing as he did a hollering hop and dance, and there was much swearing.  Our couch had a sheet on it, and washcloths on the arms, this was the one we were not allowed to sit on unless we had company.  Fact is the minute my mom left the house, I would deliberately drag my arse all over that couch (not naked), like I was marking my territory , I would lay on it and rub my body all over it like a cat?  Ha little did she know I "did" sit on that couch and I did enjoy every minute of it.  So this pristine living room that only company was supposed to use became my fascination.  We had a stereo that we never played, or they never played, I did I listened to Herb Albert, Taste of Honey over and over and over, remember if on the record changer you left the arm out it would keep playing the last album?  Remember those yellow plastic things you put in 45's to make them fit on a stereo player?  I loved those things, I used to put them in my mouth and blow through them...easily entertained.  Ok, I need to find something to do....