Blink

I have an infinite list of tasks to accomplish in the next five days and my eye has begun to twitch in that way that if I were in a combat situation my peers might start avoiding me and whispering behind my back. Instead I find myself standing in line next to seven other housewives with the thousand-yard stare, and no one knows for sure if they are spotting something down isle 15 on sale, or ready to disembowel the next person that asks them if they’re all ready for Christmas. Even the children sense something very dangerous brewing deep within their mothers, not daring to whimper or whine for checkout isle candy. Ella seems in her own world all together humming quietly to herself and playing with the thread slowly unraveling from my sleeve. She sleeps in the car and while I carry her into the house, thankfully allowing me to get cargo in the backdoor unencumbered. Now, I sip an instant coffee in front of my blog, a few spare minutes alone, planning to put homemade chicken pie in the oven, while the curser blinks back at me… blink… blink… blink…