12 Hours

5:30 a.m. – my radio alarm, set on low volume, quietly stirs me awake. I know that our coffee-pot-on-a-timer will have my Folgers ready. I scuffle out of bed in search of the coffee mug of the day. It’s silly, but I enjoy picking out my coffee mug. I have mugs for holidays, mugs that were gifts from special people, mugs with Looney Tunes characters and a current favorite, “Life is Good” mug. A good friend of the family that helped me move one time commented that she never knew anyone with so many coffee mugs. I was not insulted.

I’m now perking like the coffee pot was a few minutes ago. Moving faster. Singing to radio. And making mental notes as I walk through each room. My internal dialogue is a running-to-do list. When I get home from work, I will wash the sheets on all the beds, run the vacuum and sort through the 1,837 pictures I have on my SD card from the cross country meets and organize them into a photo book on Shutterfly. I will make a delicious dinner (no more frozen pizza for my family!). Wait! I need to make my grocery list. A quick check of the pantry and freezer tells me that I will also need to go shopping after I get off work. No problem.

As I flutter through the family room, picking up last night’s blankets and pillows, I eye the basket of magazines I’ve been saving to go through. For months. Well, tonight…as soon as I hop off the treadmill, I will read a couple of them and cut out the crafts and recipes that look do-able.

What am I going to wear to work today? Hmmm, those pants are in the pile I have been meaning to take to the dry cleaners. I just add that little, no-biggie task to my mental list of after-work stops. After ruffling through the closet, I find an outfit that will work and quickly iron it. Almost ready for work. I take a few minutes to throw a few snacks into baggies to help my son with his lunch for school. Out the door by 7:15.

It is now 4:30 p.m. I have a vague recollection that I was supposed to do something after work. Oh CRUD…the grocery store! I ponder this. It is senior citizen day at the grocery store. There is no way in timbuktu I am going there. I am pretty sure, though, that if we empty all the boxes of cereal and do not go overboard with our milk, we can get by with that for dinner. When I reach my car, I see the clothes I am supposed to drop at the dry cleaners. I wonder if anyone would notice if I wore today’s slacks again tomorrow??

Home! Oh sweet home!! I walk in and think I have never seen anything as amazingly beautiful as that couch. I glance at the treadmill. Really – I would have to move all that laundry I hung on it to dry yesterday morning. It’s a daunting task. And the vacuum?? It’s in the closet. I would have to open the door and drag it out. I can redeem this evening, though. The magazines!! I will look at them and become creatively influenced; motivated even. Later. After a bowl of Lucky Charms.

Oh, the difference 12 hours make!!

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About Marla Rose

This blog documents country life in central Illinois with lots of pictures, and various other ideas/adventures that come my way. My hope is to make you laugh (or at least smile) and appreciate this life!
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4 Responses to 12 Hours

  1. BeckyP says:

    We have good intentions though don’t we!? Super mom and wife are totally overrated, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  2. I feel so much better. I’m not the only one who can’t do it all.

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