Today. (The Tuesday-that-was-almost-a-Monday)
It wasn’t terribly awful.
Just not that significantly great.
Strange dreams. Waking up at weird hours all night long.
Warm covers and cold room.
(Snooze, snooze, snooze)
Not so enthused to be leaving the warm covers me.
Hurry through the freeeeeeeezing cold dark upstairs.
Warm shower and start the coffee.
Reluctantly pass up the flip flops and find the shoes and coat instead.
Hope mug gets topped off with a splash of milk and spoonful of sugar.
Frost on the windshield?!?!?
Ice scraper still missing from the trunk.
Quickly borrow brother’s and grumble inwardly about the frozen fingers.
(Huge switch from last Tuesday’s 80* short sleeves and flip flops.)
Done. Notice the birds singing, despite the frigid temperatures.
Crank the heat and the perky piano tunes.
Hurry from car to work.
Fumble with keys. Unlock.
Scrub potatoes. Chunk, toss, add parsley.
Think. Pray and pray while hands work.
Open corn, peaches, mixed fruit.
Rinse cans. Rinse more cans.
Kitchen Volunteer arrives, along with her way-too-snoopy-for-his-own-good boyfriend.
He somehow already knows the area I live in. Greeeeeeat.
(We are not going into any more details, Mr. Strange Person)
I pray that I would not be judgmental and end up gaining some amusement out of it all.
Heat green beans and applesauce for marked meals.
Explain marked meals to Volunteer and Boyfriend. Twice.
Dish out fish, pack bags.
Several sweet texts cross my phone screen.
Put away leftovers.
Oh yeah, need to boil water for tomorrow’s jello.
*inward sigh* Must have good attitude toward sometimes difficult old lady coming in to eat.
Wrap silverware, get her extra napkin, make sure her beloved tomato juice is ready.
Plate her salad and bread.
Oh good, she’s not nearly as demanding today.
She asks me who I date (blunt lady, she is) and when I say his name she looks confused.
“He’s from Pennsylvania” I say and she looks completely and utterly shocked.
Hello, there are guys in places other than K. County, Ohio.
Apparently my love life is being discussed by her and her friends.
She later asks how to make the Parsley Potatoes herself.
The 90-year-old in-town driver returns.
She comes over to the sink where I’m peeling onions and holds out a tray.
It’s perfectly melted shut.
Apparently plastic trays will not survive a conventional oven.
Even the form of yesterday’s corn dog is preserved.
I roar with laughter!
She takes it back to the office and we all laugh ’til we almost cry.
Finish up dishes.
Head across the road.
Up to the office with the laptop.
Pay a bill or two.
Pore over houses for sale and spreadsheets for a few hours.
Starving, famished me.
Whip together enchiladas for supper.
Adventures in Odyssey drones in the background.
Set table. Heat up corn. Wash up extra dishes.
Supper with the family. (Those that are here, that is)
Crash in room for awhile.
Haul huge pile of clothes upstairs.
Throw a load in the washer.
(I feel like such a mom right now)
Rose & I hang out in the Gathering Room.
Still chilly in this house.
PJs and blankets and floor heaters and tea.
Isaac sees my Bible and gets his out.
We sit on the loveseat and I read his favorite stories aloud.
Goliath and Jacob and Sampson.
Such a boy!
“Life is an ocean, love is the boat” and “Calium Infinitum” end up on constant repeat.
Journal hears jumbled thoughts and God’s Word comforts insecurities.
And that’s Tuesday.