So Far, I'm Liking 2008 Much Better

Hush.

Do you hear that? That's silence, that is. Golden, diamond-studded solitude. Well, except for the dog. There's always The Dog. Sort of like a shadow whose nails click on the floor. She'd really like for you to either just stay where you are, so she doesn't have to keep getting up from her nap to follow you to the next room, or she'd really like for you to go outside and play in the snow. But you're used to that sort of presence and judgement in your life.

But the rest...it's so quiet and peaceful.

Remember back at the end of the summer? School was to start, and for the first time in 9 years, I was to be alone in my own house for more than a couple of minutes at a time? I'd get to watch trash on TV without constant haranguing from the small handed ones. I'd get to nap in silence (yes, yes, except for The Dog). I could eat ice cream and chocolate for lunch and no one would be the wiser except for me and my sucrose-ill self. I could finally pee in solitude, no small girl barging in no matter how I explained that "Mommy really would like some privacy, NOW!"

And all that lasted, I believe for 2 whole days: a Thursday and its following Friday. Then Lilian had her fall and her heart attack and came to be with us, along with all my darling parents in succession, with surgery and recovery and meals on trays and visiting nurses. Everything fell together very fortunately, with minimal work lost, no permanent placement in an assisted care center, no daycare.

But, no solitude that I'd looked forward to with the same gleam in my eye that a prisoner has as he counts the days until release in hatch marks on his cell wall, listening to the living noise of his cell mates day in and day out.

Cell mates that he may actually adore; whose company he may have sought out and actively recruited, but everyone (and by 'everyone' I of course mean 'me') needs, nay craves, solitude.

And today, I have it. 5 whole hours from bus pick-up until bus drop-off.

I feel like a new woman. A new woman with rumpled hair from curling up on the couch, reading. A woman with no make-up (because...why?) a woman who's clothes may be a bit ripe but are comfortable.

I don't have the full 2 days at the end of each week that I'd planned on. Lilian still has her rehab that she needs to be ferried to each Friday afternoon, and tomorrow I've got to take The Dog to the vet, as well (Diarrhea. Dog and Diarrhea.) so that'll blow the Fridays, but if I can just have the Thursdays, I will be satisfied.

Happy New Year to me.

------------------

And speaking of years that are new, you'll be glad to know that I've already achieved my one and only resolution:

As I am beyond tired of shirts that are too short. I have declared war on shirts that are too short. I have purged my closet, shelves and drawers of any and all shirts that have a tail less than a full 8" below my belt line. I have freed myself from the drafty, horrifying double whammy of raising my arms in the course of living and exposing my white, dimply bare midriff to the chill and to the offense of the eyes of others.



I will accept words of gratitude from the general public.



I will look for some sort of award for Special Services To Humanity in the mail.



I will NEVER buy an inadequate shirt again.



Should anyone wish to start a fund to hunt down those who've perpetuated such misery in the name of fashion, I will gladly contribute time and resources.

And kindling.