An empty house. Yet when I look around everything seems to be jumping up and down yelling for my attention. Isn’t that how it is when the company leaves and reality hits.
A truckload of laundry, stops me in my tracks, "Hey lady do you think you could manage to pick up the piles off the floor? By the way the iron is flat out jealous!" Looking at the iron I smirk, "Ha!" I walk over the piles and head downstairs.
"Good morning Mom." Says Prince Sacha, as he continues to eat pasta from the pan. I open the refrigerator and it growls, "Empty! Chocolate and champagne are not real food, can you please come back to real life…bread, butter and milk."
Sacha says, "I am eating pasta for breakfast."
("Bad Mom, Bad mom!" I think to myself, though Prince Sacha seems to be happily surviving.) Stacks of dishes pretending to be cute on the counter. No clean glasses so I cup my hands and drink.
I walk back upstairs. Not bothering to notice the stacks of paper on my desk, that are moaning in a steady whisper: D-e-a-d-l-i-n-e-s!
Slipping into the bathroom, my friend the tub comforts me. Hot water roars from the tap, like a steady glass of white wine filling up, coloring my thoughts hazy. Only to be reminded that there are no clean towels. I don’t care I’ll drip dry.
As I stand up in the tub to drip dry I see my reflection in the mirror…
In two weeks I’ll turn fifty, I gotta get my act together. Second thought maybe not, as I turn the hot water back on.
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