Night has come, and the minions are safely away in their beds. I fill my cup, grab a snack, and settle onto my couch. Tonight will be the night I finally read that book. You know the book with two inches of dust on it, the book I just had to read.
I snuggle into the blanket, and begin. Page one.
“Hun, did you call the phone company?” My husband questions.
“Yup, it’s fixed.” I respond quickly, and restart the first sentence.
“Can you even believe what Obama said today! Yada yada, blah, blah, yada, and so on…..”
I let out a deep sigh, reply and again restart the first sentence.
“And then at work today… (add in lots of visual demonstrations)”
I nod, sigh again and exaggerate the movement of me once again picking up my book.
“Mommy, I can’t sleep.” the boy calls out from the hallway.
Half an hour later I am still on the first sentence.
They tell me that one day this will change. I’m betting it will happen when I’m finally in a nursing home, but my vision will probably be gone, and I’ll have to wait for some ungrateful teenager who’s only there for service hours to scream it at me in my right ear while texting their bff that the drool on my chin is grossing them out. Punk kids, they have no respect.
And I’ll tell that bastard child about back in the days when I had to drive a whole hour, up hill, in the snow to buy that book, with two young children in tow, using my own change that I stole out of the laundry. And then I’ll hit that young snot with my cane on top of their head.
Then I’ll probably get locked up in the crazy hallway where the volunteers aren’t allowed to go down, the one with all of the alarms, and mashed peas on the menu every night, so we don’t choke ourselves, and I’ll cry out at night to the nurses about how all I ever wanted in life was to read a whole damn book.
And then I’ll die. And out of boredom one of the nurses will google my name and find this blog and then, THEN, she’ll be feeling real bad.
It could happen.
*starts googling canes*
ps. This is post #13 of NaBloPoMo, I think my crazy is showing.