Cindy spent the night last night. She is moving today. Her old house is closer to my house than her new house. She has to start at the old house. She spent the night here.
I like when Cindy and I have a sleep-over. She does not care if we talk and laugh all night or if I simply ignore her to concentrate on my multitudes of writing. This is fabulous. But what is even better, Cindy will let me sleep until the last possible moment when she spends the night. An extra hour of sleep can leave a shit-eating grin on your face all day long.
Except, I had to be up really early on My Day Off.
Because I had to make a brief hour long appearance where I normally go Everyday. Not fun. But still, an hour for the whole rest of the day?! So, worth it.
Except, remember how I said Cindy is moving today? Yeah, that's right. I knew I had the day off before she knew when she was moving. I still opened my Big Mouth and offered to help. Even when I instantly regretted it, but still knew I would do it, anyway.
I do not back-out even when I learn Cindy has a Go-With-The-Flow type mentality about moving. She still has one or two boxes that need to be packed(Definition-Half the House)while the Movers are loading other stuff. Whenever they show up, that is. They are her friends. Friends means discount. Friends means whenever they can squeeze you in.
So, I do not really have time to have some fun before running home from where I have to go Everyday even on my days off.
But, a bus comes every 15 minutes. And what if I just happened to miss just one? Not much. I sit on my favorite planter and watched how the usual store owners operate and gossip at 10 in the morning. I write. Drink coffee.
My favorite busker just happened to be there, too.
I come home and at first, did not understand the mass destruction that had happened in such a short time while I was gone. Oh, poor Cindy. I am starting to understand what two kids and a 20 month old, all day must be like.
I start to feel sorry for Cindy.
Until I see her sitting on the couch, wide awake, eyes glazed, watching talk shows. Wrapped up in my comforter.
As I stand there, I suddenly want to take the remote control and shove it...
"Cindy! I am home," I finally exclaim at her.
Her head moves slowly towards me. Her eyes do not lose there glaze.
"I hate moving," she whimpers, looking me in the eyes before slowly turning back to the TV. "What the hell am I watching?"
I hate moving, too. And I suddenly feel sorry for Cindy again.
But not enough for me to sit and listen to her whine. I am going to blog. My kids are gone for a swim. On My Day Off where I get to do nothing I want, I am going to take this time to do what want. It might only be for 15 minutes.
So I do take the time.
And Cindy decides to go get us coffee. That makes it even nicer.
Except for when the baby takes a 20 minute freak-out.
But I decide to listen to a Cult song really loud on my headphones. It makes it nice again.
It is 3 in the afternoon and Cindy still sits here, waiting without patience for the phone to ring. I can be found wearing headphones still.
My son would like a freezie, he says when he gets my attention from The Distillers.
I put my headphones back on after I agree, watching him run for the basement door. A moment later a flurry of skinny arms and a wide smile comes in my line of vision.
"Where is the freezie?" I ask.
"Look, Mom! Your rock! I found your rock."
His little six year olds palm, pink with life, opens and there is my rock.
"Oh, buddy..." I trail off.
"Gimmie a hug," he grins.
I like when Cindy and I have a sleep-over. She does not care if we talk and laugh all night or if I simply ignore her to concentrate on my multitudes of writing. This is fabulous. But what is even better, Cindy will let me sleep until the last possible moment when she spends the night. An extra hour of sleep can leave a shit-eating grin on your face all day long.
Except, I had to be up really early on My Day Off.
Because I had to make a brief hour long appearance where I normally go Everyday. Not fun. But still, an hour for the whole rest of the day?! So, worth it.
Except, remember how I said Cindy is moving today? Yeah, that's right. I knew I had the day off before she knew when she was moving. I still opened my Big Mouth and offered to help. Even when I instantly regretted it, but still knew I would do it, anyway.
I do not back-out even when I learn Cindy has a Go-With-The-Flow type mentality about moving. She still has one or two boxes that need to be packed(Definition-Half the House)while the Movers are loading other stuff. Whenever they show up, that is. They are her friends. Friends means discount. Friends means whenever they can squeeze you in.
So, I do not really have time to have some fun before running home from where I have to go Everyday even on my days off.
But, a bus comes every 15 minutes. And what if I just happened to miss just one? Not much. I sit on my favorite planter and watched how the usual store owners operate and gossip at 10 in the morning. I write. Drink coffee.
My favorite busker just happened to be there, too.
I come home and at first, did not understand the mass destruction that had happened in such a short time while I was gone. Oh, poor Cindy. I am starting to understand what two kids and a 20 month old, all day must be like.
I start to feel sorry for Cindy.
Until I see her sitting on the couch, wide awake, eyes glazed, watching talk shows. Wrapped up in my comforter.
As I stand there, I suddenly want to take the remote control and shove it...
"Cindy! I am home," I finally exclaim at her.
Her head moves slowly towards me. Her eyes do not lose there glaze.
"I hate moving," she whimpers, looking me in the eyes before slowly turning back to the TV. "What the hell am I watching?"
I hate moving, too. And I suddenly feel sorry for Cindy again.
But not enough for me to sit and listen to her whine. I am going to blog. My kids are gone for a swim. On My Day Off where I get to do nothing I want, I am going to take this time to do what want. It might only be for 15 minutes.
So I do take the time.
And Cindy decides to go get us coffee. That makes it even nicer.
Except for when the baby takes a 20 minute freak-out.
But I decide to listen to a Cult song really loud on my headphones. It makes it nice again.
It is 3 in the afternoon and Cindy still sits here, waiting without patience for the phone to ring. I can be found wearing headphones still.
My son would like a freezie, he says when he gets my attention from The Distillers.
I put my headphones back on after I agree, watching him run for the basement door. A moment later a flurry of skinny arms and a wide smile comes in my line of vision.
"Where is the freezie?" I ask.
"Look, Mom! Your rock! I found your rock."
His little six year olds palm, pink with life, opens and there is my rock.
"Oh, buddy..." I trail off.
"Gimmie a hug," he grins.
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