“I can’t wait for my two week’s notice to be up,” Carolyn told me as she walked in the door this morning exasperated. “Early this morning was horrific.”
“What happened?” I asked concerned as she stepped into my bedroom to get undressed and to put on one of my soft, well worn, white cotton t-shirts.
I stood at my bedroom door leaned up against the door frame as I listened.
“A whole crew of local pulp wooders and forestry guys came filing through the doors just as I was getting off at 5:30 wanting coffee, cokes, cigarettes, chewing tobacco, and snacks. We had a line of men snaking through the aisles to the back of the store. I thought I would never get off. I was about to jump out of my skin.”
She sat on my bed rubbing her eyes sleepily. I had been up all night washing laundry, reading and listening to the radio and was pretty sleepy myself. The first light of dawn was softly illuminating my darkened bedroom. I closed the blinds to block out the light. The muted and steady drone of a morning TV talk show could also be heard emanating from my den.
“You hungry?” I asked her.
“Oh sweetheart, a hot breakfast would be wonderful. Wake me up when it is ready. I am going to catch some quick rest.” She said as she turned on my fan and crawled into my bed pulling my covers over her.
“Ummmm, these covers smell wonderful. You must have washed them last night. They are still warm from the dryer.”
“Nothing like the smell of spring breeze fabric softener and the feel of clean sheets,” I replied.
I got in the kitchen and fried some bacon, boiled some grits, sliced some cheddar cheese, and baked a pan of biscuits. Breakfast was done in about 45 minutes.
“Hey doll,” I said after walking into my bedroom and gently shaking her. “Breakfast is ready.”
She whimpered softly and rolled over to fall back sound asleep clutching my spare pillow under her arms. I quietly stepped into my dining room and ate my breakfast. I didn’t have the heart to wake her she was sleeping so well and was so tired. I don’t see how she does it. It scares the shit out of me that I may someday lose my income and have to go back to work. I don’t know if I could ever handle what she has to put up with. I would be a total mental case disaster.
1 comment:
You are stronger than you think. Give yourself some credit. I would like to think that maybe you could find work doing some writing. Any chances on turning this life into a book? It's been asked before.
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