Recently, I met a friend for the weekend. She drove south, and I drove north. We enjoyed staying in a hotel, surrounded by silence. Of course to my friend and I, silence means there are no kids bickering with each other, no gripes about what was made for dinner, and no whines when bedtime is announced. Our silence may have been broken by the television or our own dialogue, but we had control of the volume, the intensity, and the on/off button. Parental paradise.
While together, my friend and I enjoyed eating dinner out at a restaurant. You know – a restaurant. A restaurant is a place where one can order food to eat without having to make it. Even better, a restaurant is a place where they bring the food to your table, and they clean up the mess when you are finished eating. It is amazing! (I don’t get out much.) Read more
Back in March, I interviewed for the perfect part-time job. This part-time job was going to fit in beautifully with my current part-time job. Together, the two part-time jobs would ensure we would have enough money to
support my ice cream addiction enroll both boys in a private school. After a telephone interview, I was asked to come in to their office for a face to face interview. As I left their office, I was informed a decision was going to be made that Friday. The rest of the week, I was anxiously awaiting the news.
Though my friends and family did their best to appease me with positive thoughts, the reality that I did not get the job was becoming obvious. Either that, or the folks in the company decided to go on hiatus and follow Charlie Sheen’s “Violent Torpedo of Truth” tour. Read more
Fine. If you are going to require me to be honest, I admit I have passive aggressive tendencies. Wait. What do you mean you don’t require me to be honest? That’s not fair. I was set up. Set up! I say.
Oh well, now that the proverbial cat is out of the proverbial bag, I might as well put all my cards on the table. I am currently doing a dance of the bedsheets. What is the dance of bedsheets? The dance of bedsheets involves moving the clump of clean bedsheets (needing to be folded and put away) from the bed to the chair, based on the need of either the bed or the chair.
When will I stop doing the dance of the bedsheets? When my husband has folded and put the bedsheets away. I’ve been dancing for nearly a week, and I am showing no signs of tiring.
My husband tried to trick me into stopping the dance, when he mentioned he was overwhelmed with work. As I walked back into the bedroom, seeing the sheets clumped on the bed, I hesitated. “Lenore, it won’t take but a minute. Just put the sheets away. Why are you doing this? You’re being silly.” The rational voice in my head whispered. Read more