Of what, you may ask? Well, I’m sick and tired of not having a moment to myself. Everyday I rise at 4 a.m., get myself ready for work, make sure the kids stuff seems to be together and prepared, then head out for my day. I battle tech woes until it’s time to go retrieve the little darlings from school–then the real work begins! I have them do their homework and check it. Then I have them redo their homework and check it again. A good night sees this happening one more time. Children are chauffered to and from their respective classes. In between all this, they must be reminded of their manners, not to fight or be rude to each other, not to be argumentative to me or my partner and not to be rude to us either. Then there’s housework. The bed is rarely made when I come home, whatever dishes that have magically dirtied themselves while I was at work, have not been done, and then there’s the moutains of laundry that must be washed, dried and folded throughout the week–every week–for the rest of my life. Then there’s dinner to make. It has to be nutritious, economical, quick to prepare, and bowel regulating for those in the family who need that kind of thing. After dinner there’s dishes to be done (by the kids, but this follows the same redo pattern that is so much a part of the homework routine), and trash to be put out. Then we can have fun time! Woo Hoo!
I long for the joy of a private afternoon filled with guilty pleasures! Of being able to watch Jerry Springer without keeping my finger poised over the #2 on the remote so I can quickly switch to PBS in case someone comes in and thinks I actually watch trash like Jerry Springer and not something intellectually fulfilling like PBS.
I want to sit around in my grubby t-shirt and Wonder Woman pajama pants and not care that I haven’t washed my hair since yesterday and have no intention of doing so until tomorrow! I want to go braless and know that no one’s around to see that my tits rest on my thighs when I sit down. I want to scratch in places that itch and pick wedgies with abandon! I want to feast on cold pizza and diet coke! I want to drink OJ right from the container! And when I belch and/or fart, I want to contemplate what I injested that might have caused such a spectacle of smell rather than be all embarassed and apologetically excuse myself for this social infraction.
Mmmmm, solitude! I miss you my old friend! sniff
God how I hated that song when it came out! Thanks for the reminder, it made me giggle.