Digging In

What was I thinking? Here I was, excited for things to get back to normal except I forgot that normal means running around like crazy people, trying to get to the bus and school on time. It means losing one glove and realizing shoes are still outside and wet. I forgot to send the check for school lunch and I had to go back home because I forgot my wallet this morning. Who forgets their wallet?


When I got to work I realized that, while I love taking time off, I still have the same amount of work to complete, but I have less hours to do it. So I’m rushing along when a breaker blows, taking the server offline. Once that’s back to running, I have a problem with a form that sends me another hour behind. And then I remember—this is normal. This is my life.

You know how you hear reporters interviewing the latest Powerball millionaire and they say that they aren’t going to change—they’re even going to keep their job? They are lying through their soon-to-be-professionally-straightened teeth. They’re going to move to a nicer neighborhood, hire landscapers and housekeepers, buy a car that actually blows warm air from the bottom vent (mine doesn’t), and tour Europe. And so would I. I’m pretty sure that my husband would more closely resemble George Clooney if we were leisurely touring Italy than he does now when the sexiest thing we see each other do is dishes.

And maybe that’s why we daydream about running away—even if we’d never really do it—because a life of leisure looks so trouble free. As it is, I don’t have the luxury of planning a trip to Paris, or a trip to see my parents for that matter. I’m digging in for the long haul. If you’re going anyplace fun, send me a postcard.