Saturday, September 29, 2012
Not a creature was stirring,
not even two boys, The Husband or Sophie.
Everyone is gone, and I am alone in my house with a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a stack of magazines.
I've dusted and straightened up the house. I've placed papers and bills and mail in tidy piles. I broke up a fight that included punching, flailing, a choke-hold on the bed and much screaming between Oliver and Henry over Henry's "lost" wallet. Accusations flew, blame was placed, the wallet has mysteriously disappeared, despite the fact that it has two one hundred dollar bills in it, bills that I had gently suggested were better off in my safe-keeping, but who listens to their mother?
Sophie went to the park with Saint Mirtha. The boys went to the movies with The Husband.
Still in my pajamas, cross-legged on my bed, I am feeling a bit like a real Hollywood star, taking it easy before the big show.
Excuse me, now. I'm going to rest my eyes.
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
You didn't mention whether or not you were in close proximity with the "grape". I hope you are. Enjoy!ReplyDelete
This image just makes me smile. All over.ReplyDelete
i love your fantasy life, and the way it intersects with the beautiful irrepressible real.ReplyDelete
Happy you were able to have some time to yorself!ReplyDelete
I want to know how the mystery of the wallet is resolved!ReplyDelete
Enjoy you well deserved break. And you're a The New Yorker reader. Respect! 'Nuff said! :-)ReplyDelete
Greetings from London.
whoooo hoooo! love moments when i get to be alone in my house and how quiet it is!ReplyDelete
I dream of time alone in my house. I think it happens for me about as often it happens for you. Enjoy your peace and quiet.ReplyDelete
I hope the wallet turns up, but I suspect it will and there will be much smacking of foreheads and hang-dog looks on faces.ReplyDelete
Have another great peformance!
Once again, I loved your piece.ReplyDelete