I wanted to be the woman in this picture today. Without the cat, of course. The cat is not allowed in my room. I have enough shit to do. Cleaning cat urine/poop from under my bed wouldn’t even make the list.
I wanted to do nothing today because today is my only day off this week (including Saturday and Sunday). Tomorrow I have to work lunch and then spend the evening doing some charity event that I got roped into by a manager who, as it conveniently turns out, will be in France while I am slinging hash at National Night Out in suburban New Jersey. I must have been a serial killer in my past life or, at the very least, a lawyer.
I had, quite literally, just opened my book when my phone alerted me that I had a text message. I knew I shouldn’t have brought the stupid thing into my room. It was from my teenage daughter, who is currently vacationing at the beach with a friend’s family. It said, “Mommy I am sick I threw up at 3 this morning I miss you”. Ugh! My kid has not called me or referred to me as “Mommy” for years. And she hardly ever gets sick. And she NEVER says she misses me.
I called her right away. I spoke to the friend’s mother. I asked her if she wanted to come home. Satisfied that she was comfortable staying, grateful that I would not have to make a 300-mile round trip to fetch her, and fully satisfied that she would live, I went back to my book. But the spell was broken. I was still worried (because she called me “Mommy; because she never gets sick and; because she claimed to miss me). I stopped reading and ended up doing more productive things. Now I need a nap. Or some ice cream.