Friday, October 28, 2005

Being here (now)

There are times when the day is more than it really is. Days when you just KNOW you're going to remember things that have happened or stuff you've thought about or people you've talked with. Days when the air seems to be slightly charged or you seem to be slightly more than you normally are. Times when everything seems just right and you couldn't be any better or happier or more in tune with the center of the universe than you are right at that moment.

This, sadly, is NOT one of those days. This is one of those days in which I loll about at home on a gorgeous fall day, trying to overcome the virus I somehow picked up at the pediatrician's office a few days ago, a day in which even starting to THINK about doing anything even remotely like work (or play, for that matter) is almost too hard to do. This is a day in which the bath I just tried to take would have been a highlight, except that I'm not yet used to the sounds this new house makes while heating up in the sun during the day, and did you know that the sounds that it makes sound suspiciously like the floor is creaking into bits beneath you (me) which makes you (or me) think that perhaps the floor will indeed give way while I'm (you're) naked in the tub, and won't that just be something when the fire dudes come to extricate me (you?) from the crawlspace, all covered in spiders and ants and chilly with being naked and wet and all, and the dogs probably standing over the big hole in the floor thinking "where in the hell did she just go? She was just HERE, and I just licking some of that nice warm water out of the tub, and then, NOTHING! Where in the HECK did she go?"

So, not so much with the bath. Or work, or getting started, or even being able to drop the kids off at school today on time, even though we left 7 (count 'em) minutes earlier than usual and SHOULD have been there in plenty of time but NO, the school gods laugh in the face of preplanning and on-timeliness and so we were stuck in the snaking conga line of growling cars being driven by sleep-muddled parents wondering why in the heck they have to do this every. single. day. and why can't they just quit their stupid jobs and homeschool because that seems like such a GREAT idea at that time of the morning while sitting in their cars for 20 minutes sucking exhaust from the beat-up rattling shell of a car in front of them waiting for God knows what to get the line started so they can get to the office where their soul will continue to be sucked from them, ever so slightly, day by day by day.


I WOULD put the kids on the bus, but it comes at 6:40 in the morning, people, and that's just FAR too early for anything even nearly LIKE trundling up the steps of the yellow bus. For them and for me. They're still in elementary school, for Pete's sake! So I drive them, each and every day, and celebrate when Friday afternoon arrives and I know that there are 2 whole mornings waiting for us of long cozy lazes in bed or watching cartoons and being just exactly and perfectly happy with only that.

(It seems as though I'm all about the ALL CAPS and underlining today. Whatever)

So, in the spirit of all this love and joy and thrumming along at the speed of the universe's central core of peace and harmony, I leave you, to walk the dogs who are thankfully not wondering where the heck I am because I'm not currently freezing and naked in my crawlspace, and I will be thankful for it and the day that is.

Then I'll take a nap.

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