Freestyle Week #8
Fridays are mine. Well, not entirely. Actually, not much at all because they’re filled with all of the laundry that’s piled up, the gunk on the floor that hasn’t been swept into the corners, a bathroom that almost scares me, the changing of the sheets, the watering of the plants – general scrub down. But Fridays are still mine. I take this one day to not think about school work and to spend as little time on the computer as possible. My nice purple chair seat is worn in the middle now from all of the hours I spend here. Not on Fridays, though. Nope. No sir. Fridays are mine. Thursday night when I got home from algebra, test nicely put me behind me, I sat in the chair and started my mental list of all the things that I would do. What is that they say about the best laid plans…
The morning started before the coffee was even brewed. Phone rings and my son’s brother is begging for some computer time. An hour is all he needs, he assures me. Reluctantly I agreed. The thing I like most about Fridays is that I don’t have to entertain. If I want to walk around in my jamas until 5 I can. Having him around, and in the center of my universe was going to put a real damper on my morning. I talked myself through it and worked around him as much as I could. Half of the laundry that I was doing was his. He showed up at 9 and plopped himself down until 11:30. I could feel myself getting irritable. I kept asking “How much longer?” “A few more minutes.” was the constant reply. Finally, at quarter after 12 he was printing and getting ready to leave…FINALLY! Not two minutes after he was out the door, Keith pulled in…home for lunch. Another distraction. I guess since he lives here and fathered my youngest I should be more amiable. But dammit! It’s FRIDAY!! My day!
After a 45 minute break, I had to take him back to work and then go fight the crowd (why was there a crowd?) at Doug’s. Took twice as long to get through the store. Hagen is at the very social age and wanted to talk to everyone. He’s also at the question age. “How he do that, Momma?” “Why you do that, Momma.” Endlessly, relentlessly. From the minute that he wakes until just a few minutes ago when he closed his eyes. I love that age, don’t misunderstand, but IT’S FRIDAY!!! It’s MY day!!! We came home, unloaded the groceries and home comes Aska. Report card day. We love report card day. Always A’s maybe a B or two. We sit down together and he talks to me about all the things he likes about his classes etc. etc. Oh, by the way there’s a dance tonight. He needs to eat and you know it’s pizza night, Mom. Pepperoni, please and could you put alfredo sauce on half of it? I glanced at the clock. 3:30. Laundry needs an update, grocery bags are all over the floor and I have to pick Keith up in an hour. Time to make the pizzas.
Pizzas out of the oven, time to go get Keith. By the time Hagen runs around the office sufficiently disrupting the workplace on a FRIDAY afternoon, gets locked back up in his seat and we make the drive home, it’s nearly 5:15. I sat and visited with Keith until he went next door, got Hagen fed and washed up and it was time to take Aska to the dance. 7:00 on the way home. Well, at least I’ll have a couple of hours when I get home. Hagen didn’t nap so he should sleep early. I can just relax and…dreaming. All of it a madcap dream.
Hagen wasn’t the least bit into sleep until 9:00 which just happened to be right before his father came home. I gave up at 10:00 and went to bed.
Saturdays are mine…
posted by millay at 1:50 AM
12 Comments:
Hey, look!! It's a 5 graf essay! Now how do you suppose that happened?
I was going to say....
It's a comparison essay--they tend to read just like this, pretty much off the rigid five-graf grid because they only work when similarities are being found between wildly disparate things and so don't lend themselves to the easy formula.
Actually, not 'just like this'--because this is quite a few cuts beyond the usual. Maybe you'd like to hold onto it for a few weeks and use it down the line (and write a new freestyle 8).
I understand you and physics are on a new footing altogether--something about a whirlwind courtship, elopement, dream honeymoon in a distant place, dream home on a grand Maine lake, cute babies, strapping nannies, etc etc. Congratulations!
actually, that reads a lot like my isearch on the school.
I thought your relationship with the school was more like instant infatuation, nearly instant cheating and betrayal on the school's part; long nasty ugly divorce with all the trimmings.
I thought we agreed that it would do your teacher heart much more service if I wrote it as a romance. I was trying to accomodate.
I'm totally confused now and swear once again to inoculate myself against the disease of metaphor.
okay...i replaced it with a freestyle and will save the other for the comparison. What I notice is that I seem to be writing these days in 5 grafs, except when I have to present you with a 5 graf essay. Funny the brain...
I am reading a book called 'Kaputt' with a gloriously ironic description of the lives of birds on the Russian battlefields--I'll see if I have the energy to copy it onto the 162 website when it's Irony Week. Check it out if I do.
I am reading a book called 'Kaputt' with a gloriously ironic description of the lives of birds on the Russian battlefields--I'll see if I have the energy to copy it onto the 162 website when it's Irony Week. Check it out if I do.
I am reading a book called 'Kaputt' with a gloriously ironic description of the lives of birds on the Russian battlefields--I'll see if I have the energy to copy it onto the 162 website when it's Irony Week. Check it out if I do.
Blogger problems, eh?
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