Feeling “worse for wear” because my “cup runneth over” with non-conquerable issues, needed a “time out” from people!
Hence, upon my return from a business trip, told my husband and daughter that I was requesting a non-debatable hiatus from them. Did not matter where on “God’s green earth” their destination was to but fervidly knew that they had to pack their bags with haste and find refuge away from me for the next three to four days!
Woefully, desired an emotional release and respite!
Ahhhhh…Free at last.
So, while they journeyed hundreds of miles to Virginia, turned my attention to the “residential dump” my well-meaning daughter called bedroom.
Ugh!
Her despicable, mangled, and disorderly domicile “curdled my blood” and irked my damn nerves on a daily basis because I could not intellectually fathom why it takes 14+ years (her age) to satisfactorily clean and maintain a freaking bed and bath room that is inhabit by only one person!
Lordy!
And, because my husband was responsible for this “generational curse” strongly felt that he was not totally absolved from my ire as I pronounced him equally guilty, too, of Mantha’s dereliction of duty!
(Laugh out loud)
“Full of piss and vinegar,” communicated that both had to “get the hell lost!”
So, with “stiff upper lips” neither rocked the proverbial boat and was instantly gone from the “line of fire” in a lickety-split.
Good riddance.
Hehehehehehehehe.
Delighted in finally having the house to myself, postponed luxuriating the first few hours of my imposed sabbatical because of my dire need to apply some elbow grease to my daughter’s uninhabitable dungeon as I could no longer “turn a blind eye” to her jungle.
By night fall, was “tickled pink” and proudly announced, to no one in particular, that Mantha’s rooms were spick-and span and had earned my “Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.”
Heck, it was about freaking time because her loathsome attitude regarding the cleanliness of these rooms was “driving me up the wall!”
Yikes! Noted that I only had a mere 48 hours left of tranquil solitude.
Crap!
Bemoaning my misfortune, noticed something peculiar…
As my soul was being “restoreth,” discovered that I was annoyingly bored from idleness as for 14+ years had immensely enjoyed being my daughter’s “overly attached girlfriend” (phrase courtesy of Mantha).
Additionally, for whatever reason, also found myself consumed with regrets regarding the usage of the word “lost.”
Put it another way, hypothetically, kept thinking—just suppose they were actually lost…as in death…as in being stricken with dementia…as in being kidnapped…or as in a hocus-pocus disappearance occurrence akin to those family members who were aboard the missing Malaysian airplane?
WOW!
Off the record, suddenly my requisite “breathing space” request had become marred with anxiety as my seclusion had quickly dissolved into 48 hours of being on “pins and needles.”
Initially, envisioned a reprieve from my daughter’s idiotic justifications as to why her room was never neat, orderly, or tidy and from my husband’s irritations. Now, became overcome with fret and stress which began to “test my mettle” because I kept imagining WWAD (what would Andrea do) if I had to encounter one of the aforementioned tragedies.
Mercy!
Instantly, my gut feeling told me that I would probably be wrought with unspeakable heartache and wail from the depths of unimaginable sorrow.
Sweet Jesus!
Thus, this is what I learned for sure…
The familiar sound of jangling keys rattling the front door lock signified that I could finally exhale.
Mantha’s room returned to pig-sty status!
Nick continues to irritate me!
And, “nothing could ever take the place of them!”
