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My Day Off-A Journal-Part Three

Back to July
Cleaning my house today is not fun.  I am finding things I have not seen in awhile and it is surprising me.  Like little hand prints.  On lots of things.  Crumbs under my couch. 
Dirt.  I see dirt.
Two weeks vacation.  I have forgotten how to clean again.
It is a good thing to have a Day Off so close to my vacation.  I have catching up to do.
I am glad when everything messes up horribly for Cindy's move.  The Movers just cannot make it until dark.  So, instead of mini-helper mover I get to just be Aunt Beth, the baby-sitter.
But I feel bad for being happy I do not have to help her lift heavy things, so I tell her to get lost.  To go do something fun until it is time to move.
"For real?" she says.
"Yeah," I say.
"I am so outta here," she jumps up and down.  "Thanks, Beth!"
If I was not sick of listening to her whining, I would have made her stay.
Two weeks of only feeding myself, has also turned me into a lackluster grocery shopper.  We have crap.
I peer in my fridge and my daughter comes up behind me.  "I want corn with supper."
"Alright," I agree as she walks away.  I continue rooting around until I discover there is nothing too suitable to eat with corn.
"I want noodles," my son runs by on his way out the door.
"Fabulous!" I yell after him, looking down at the baby.
"Cup," he says, holding it up to me.
"You are going to have to get a little more difficult if you wanna make it around here," I say to him.
"Kitty," he squeals suddenly as my cat enters the room, his hands way out in front as he runs after her.
"No way, you little bugger.  We are not eating Misty," I mutter.
We eat noodles.  And corn.  And just about anything else I had in the fridge.  With a can of diced tomatoes.  It was pretty good.
The baby likes it best in his hair. 
It is My Day Off.  I put the kids to bed at eight o'clock.  I say to them "Not a peep." 
And actually get it.
I take the longest bubble bath.
I sit on my porch with a coffee and my journal.
I want chocolate.  I do not have any.  But there has got to be some sort of edible treat in the house.
Except, there is not.  My kids have really crappy taste in treats. 
I want chocolate.  I pout.
I sit for awhile at the computer, writing, but not really.  I decide I can eat cheesies.  I do not really want to.  But I feel like a snack.
I reach up, stretching further than I think I am really allowed to, so I can reach the shelf they are on.  I am too lazy on My Day Off to get a chair.  I slide the bag forward with my fingertips, ready to let it fall when something else does.
Thwack.  It lands on my stove.
A lone granola bar in a white package.
With chocolate chips.
My TV is turned down when I walk back into my living room.  A movie is on.
Steel Magnolias.  Right on.  I am a girl. 
I curl up on my couch with my favorite pillow and blanket and settle in for a feel good cry.
I wake-up to the first rays of sun, poking through my living room curtains.
My neck is sore and it is a few minutes before 7 a.m.  On a Saturday.
But no one else is up.  It is quiet.
I notice my front door was left wide-open the night before.  I feel a moments shock.
It goes away.  It is not like anyone tried to come in.
And if I am quick, I can sneak in a coffee before the kids are bleary-eyed, whining for breakfast. 


whirligirl said…
Been there, done that - but I like the way you say it much better. ;-)
jakethelad said…
I live alone at the moment. I have my two teenage boys over every second weekend. It's great. They are th best teenagers I've ever met. What did I do to deserve them? My daughter and her husband will be moving in shortly for a few months. That should be interesting.
Q, your blogs always make me think. I'd like to be sharing a hot chocolate with you right now. Thanks.
AJ said…
Q, your words are symphonic. Thank you for evoking so much wonderful imagery with so little description. You never cease to be a joy to read.
The Writer said…
And, as always, fabulously written. Damn I love reading your work, Queenie.
Mama said…
I love your writing Q. I think I'll strive for to be like you: better prose, and plus one more kid.
phoebe said…
you're really so artful, Q. thanks for sharing your day off.
Queenie said…
Thank you for stopping by Mama!

I wrote it for you, Phoebe!

phoebe said…
hi Q. just saw this comment! I'm soooooooo glad. Hope it was as much fun to write as it was to read. Thank You.

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