5 Hours To Go

There was pain.  My back strain, rearing its head all week, was taking a toll.  I had gone through as many sit for 5 minutes; stand for 10 minutes; sit again cycles as I could stand.  I considered leaving early to go home and rest it.

There was concern.  My daughter had not yet checked in from school; she should have been home by now.  I called; no answer.  I texted; no answer.  I tracked her phone location; near the school, not moving.  Is she walking?  Is she safe?  I left work early without a second thought.

There was traffic.  Gridlock, to be precise.  Of all days I needed to get home quickly (15 miles from work), no one was moving.  I avoided the freeway, but the back roads were just as packed.  I inched towards home, repeatedly calling her, hoping all was okay.

There was relief.  I finally heard from her; a huge accident on the freeway was the cause of all the congestion.  So much so that the school buses were delayed, and stuck as well.  She texted me a picture from the bus; she was bored, but safe.

There was discomfort.  Driving with my back was still hard.  1+ hours in the car on the way home didn’t help.  No position was good.  I redirected my attention as best as I could; the radio only does so much.

There was anger.  How had the school not bothered to inform the parents about the bus issue?!?  No texts, no calls.  Unacceptable.  I resolved to call them first thing in the morning.

There was fatigue.  Home, finally.  All I wanted was to lie down and rest my back; no bending, no working.  Just resting.

There was annoyance.  My little bit of a dog had relieved herself in the foyer, twice.  I carefully stepped over it and put both dogs outside until I could contain the mess.  Not her fault, exactly, we were home much later than she probably expected us.  Finally clean; bending was hard.

There was contentment.  My daughter walked in the door, and immediately came over and hugged me tight, saying she was so glad to see me, and be off that bus.  And boy, did she need to use the bathroom.

There was bellowing.  Her bathroom smelled like sewer.  She had apparently clogged the toilet just before leaving this morning, and all the water had finally drained out and let some of the gas back through.  I pulled out the rubber gloves and plunger, and luckily it cleared quickly.  More bending, though.

There was hunger.  For both of us.  I started dinner on the stove and asked her to watch it while she did her project for school.

There was laundry.  We found a single flea on one dog that morning; I had already applied flea medicine, and started laundering the bedding.  Only 4 loads to go before bed; grief.  Lots of carrying to and fro.

There was water.  Washing both dogs to ensure flea-free before bedtime.  They both hate the water; after the baths, I kind of did too.  Unfortunately, there was also lots of bending.

There was fuzz.  Purple fuzz; tons of it.  Apparently I had washed the new purple luxe blanket with the dog towels, and it shed.  Everywhere.  There was now fuzz on the dogs, on me, on the floor, in the tub.  More to clean; more bending.

There was burning.  Or at least the smell of it.  She had become so engrossed in her project that she forgot about the stove.  Fortunately only a little caramelized burning, but the rest of the food was spared.  Finally we ate; it was delicious.

There were dishes.  Out with the clean, in with the dirty.  More bending; how much more bending?

There was trash.  Trash night, to be exact.  Out to the cans, cans to the street.  Gratefully, she helped with this one.

There was pride.  Her project was finished, and was fantastic.  I continue to be amazed by her creative mind and abilities.

There was anxiety.  Any fleas on people?  The need to take a last minute shower to make sure she was clear.  We were now edging past bedtime.  She was tired, and so was I.

There was embarrassment.  The one place I had not checked was my email.  The school had sent notification; two, in fact.  Accident on the freeway.  Buses delayed.  Sharing with parents so they knew.  Next time I’ll remember to check there.

There was stalling.  Shower done, but not teeth, not clothes for tomorrow.  Dragging her feet, extending the day.  Finally she got into bed.

There was irritation.  You made my bed wrong!  I had made it to help expedite the night, but forgotten that the sheet has to be even on both sides.  OCD tendencies rear their head, once again.  She re-made the bed, then apologized for being grumpy.  I understood; I was pretty grumpy by then, myself.

There was panic.  What if the flea comes back?  What if the flea was on her?  What if it went in her nose?  What if it bit her while she slept?  Inspecting and re-inspecting the bed, pillows, stuffed bunny, no fleas.  Are you SURE???  Yes; no fleas.  Bug anxieties are hard to overcome, once they find their way into your head.  We checked once more just to be certain.

There was love.  Every night, hugs and kisses with my girl before bed.  No matter the day, the irritations, the trials or celebrations, there is love.  She drifted off feeling secure and cared for.

There was quiet.  Finally, quiet; and rest.  No more chaos.  And tomorrow, we get to do it all again.  Hopefully without all the bending.

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