After my beautiful backpacking adventure, I returned to find the contents of my refrigerator not quite cold. My front yard showed off a more distinct browning with a lush green section highlighting the leaky sprinkler head. Holding onto the memories of dome-top views, I refrained from melting down.
This morning however, when little thing after little thing chipped away at my tolerance, I finally lost it. A back up in my kitchen sink, thanks to a teenager who isn’t used to having to scrape food scraps into the garbage rather than the disposal, remained after two treatments of Drano. I pulled on my yellow gloves, donned an apron and, with plunger in hand, I made a final attempt to free the blockage. No luck. I turned to my refrigerator only to find the door had been left ajar AGAIN. I groaned, pushed it shut, and prayed that the issues surrounding my less than cold food were from actions like this rather than the need for a new appliance. Then I turned to take in the rest of my house.
Junk mail and gum wrappers were strewn across the countertop, a dead rose sat in a vase of water on the dining room table, and the back to the computer keyboard’s battery compartment lay in the living room (far away from where the computer that refuses to recognize the keyboard sits). *sigh*
I went into the bathroom and reached from some toilet paper to blow my nose. There was none – of course. Just like there was none in MY bathroom this morning. [meltdown/tirade starts NOW] Storming around the house, I replaced the toilet paper which was basically missing from ALL three bathrooms. I picked up garbage and glasses, threw out the junk mail, pushed in chairs, and basically tried to return my house to a state in which I can function properly. I thought about how I’d cut the weekly house cleaning to save money – yet here I was barely able to keep up with clutter management. [feet are now stomping and doors begin slamming HERE]
I empty my backpack from that wonderful vacation, wishing I could go back there RIGHT NOW, throw the clothes into the washing machine, and prepare to leave the house. I’m out of coffee which means I won’t have my usual latte for the morning drive. I grab my water canteen and reach for my pitcher of filtered water. It’s missing. I look all around the counter, in the other rooms, and in the refrigerator. It’s nowhere to be found. I begin to lose it.
In walks BoBo. “Momma, what happened?” I start to cry and complain. He just hugs me as I sob. It’s all small stuff; I know this but I can’t help it. It’s hard going from paradise to long work days and a world that seems to be falling apart. My 18 year old son tells me not to worry, that he’ll “take care of it.” Damn. He’s trying to be such the man. And even though I wonder if it’s too much to ask of him, I tell him to wear gloves and show him where to look for the pipe blockage.
I leave for work – trying to remind myself that this ain’t nothing compared to all that I’ve been through. Still…it kinda sucks.