Wildflower day 5: A day in the life


Woke up late. I knew it was a snow day.

Shoveled the walk before Grandma’s nurse arrived.

Moped in bed. Caught my breath.

Made Sugar lunch. She didn’t want it.

Pouted in bed. Lost a lot of Candy Crush.

Took a shower. Took my measurements. Dismal! Considered weight loss strategies, and how I hate being the girl who considers weight loss strategies. 

Sighed in bed. Read “All Quiet on the Western Front.”

Made dinner. Spaghetti, yet again. It’s snowing and I’m broke so…

Waited for Grandma to remember what she wanted from the kitchen. Corrected and prodded her, though I hated myself for losing my patience.

Found what Grandma wanted in the kitchen. She told me I’d left something in the bathroom. I thought she was losing her words again, but she probably didn’t want to say “panties.”

Got my panties out of the bathroom. Have I mentioned I live with my grandparents?

Tossed laundry in the washer. Worried about getting bleach on the “real clothes” that I put on, thinking they’d give me energy.

Ate in bed: cereal this time.

Put Sugar to bed: rubbed her back as she cried about the field trip.

Did some homework. Feels much like punching a clock, but I have been granted a rent-free grace period to finish. It’s the least I can do, right?

Sat down to blog this.

What’s next? Probably lying in bed unable to sleep.


Wildflower day 4: poems


I’ve been stuck on the haiku format. The syllable requirements focus me. I’m usually quite wordy.

Bruno Mars tickets
I’ll go and look for your face
Friends by June? Maybe.

Live from the friendzone
Think you’re writing about me
Won’t admit I read

Wildflower day 2: past relationship


Must we? I promised I’d refrain from online shade and nothing’s more shady than the one sided explanation of why a past relationship is a past relationship. I can discuss it without insulting him, but would he think so? Doubt it.

I’ll say this, though: I am disabled. I am not a good housekeeper. I’m so disorganized, in fact, that I lost my sex drive. I’m disappointed because I thought love was enough. I’m afraid because I don’t know if I can become the “wifey” type, or if I should.

I have decided cohabitation is off the table for a long time. I don’t have the energy to be that kind of partner. I can keep a kid organized and happy. Parental privilege: donating anything you’ve tripped over twice. And my Type A sister keeps me on track with her quarterly inspections. In the closed atmosphere of this last relationship, I didn’t take her help. I wanted to be the one, to fix it myself. I didn’t want anyone to know. I forgot just how many people are on my side, because I thought I was being an adult by centering my life around my relationship. “Leave and cleave,” they say, and I tried.

This feels life a divorce. Five years of shared expenses and intertwined goals are coming apart. However, I’m looking forward to making my own plans. I’m hogging the pillows. I’m watching Dreamgirls every Saturday. I’m moving on.