The ringing phone jerks her out of a deep sleep. She grabs the handset and with one eye looks at the caller ID. Knowing it is yet another bill collector, she places the phone back on its cradle and curses under her breath.

Rolling on to her back, she closes her eyes and listens for sounds of life in the house. It is raining outside--must be the reason everyone is still asleep.

Already weeks behind on an ever increasing to-do list, she rises from the bed dreading the day ahead. The cat is most excited as this means that breakfast is finally on the horizon.

The dogs hear her decent down the stairs and begin their symphony of whines and begs in excitement. Usually this makes her feel better. She loves their early morning kisses and whimpers of gratitude once she has sprung them from their nightly confinement.

Today, she feels resentment. Again, the rain is going to cause a problem in the potty regimen.

As she fills the coffee pot with water, the pressure in her chest starts to build. Like an avalanche on the Rockies, a multitude of must-do tasks roll through her mind: get prices for baskets, call the vet, do the laundry, iron the stack of clothes, give the dogs a bath-oh wait it's raining!, paint the dresser, paint the credenza, crap! it's raining, balance the checkbook, pay some bills, get a school list ready, work on the tax-exempt form, make the bed, take a shower, figure out something good for supper, work on math facts with Darrin, organize the hall closet-AGAIN......

She feels like she wants to cry. There is no way to get all of this done. Why do I do this to myself? she thinks. Remembering the conversation with her husband the night before, just make a list and we'll go over it together, she wonders if he just said that or if he'd really help. And if he was really willing to help, why wasn't he helping all along? And what did he think his little "proposal" at bedtime was going to solve? THAT wasn't on the to-do list. Not hers, anyway.

Pouring the first cup of motivation, she turns on the computer which has become habit over the last eight weeks or so. Email, blogs, Facebook. It is a comfortable routine. One she doesn't wish to part with anytime soon. Unfortunately, in just over a week and a half, the routine will be replaced with packing lunches, breakfast, make-up and hair.

She browses in all her favorite places knowing that each click of the minute hand is another check on what ISN'T getting done. Starting to feel guilty, but not caring at the same time, she continues her game and morning ritual.

The phone rings again. This time it is her cell phone and that can only mean one thing: the president's name shows up on the caller ID. She doesn't make it in time and voice mail picks it up.

"I was just calling to see if you had the time and wanted to help set- up the breakfast tomorrow. I completely understand if you don't."

No one understood that when she took the treasurer position, all she wanted to do was write the checks and balance the books. Maybe she didn't say it out loud; her husband accuses her of having imaginary conversations all the time. She debates on whether she will help or just quit all together.

The phone continues to ring. Everyone is in search of the same thing--money. The one thing she doesn't have. Each call is yet another reminder of what isn't getting done. Of course, there is that whole blood-turnip thing. You can't give it if you don't have it. She definitely doesn't have it.

This day will just be like yesterday. Tomorrow will be yet another repeat. That is her life.


Stephanie said...

LOVE LOVE LOVE this post.

Sara said...

Love and hugs from Germany!

Bridgett said...

Okay...you need a hug. And a BIG one.

[Very well written, btw.]

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