Man! This stuff goes deep. I'm old. If I was male I could be referred to as "an elder statesman." But, nope. That ain't me.
I'm still the girl who feels guilty sleeping a leetle bitty bit later than usual. And I'm talking the difference between pre- and actual sunrise. Roosters got nothing on me. No dawdling allowed. Dress and get going for cryin' out loud.
Breakfast prep? Do it in the dark if at all possible because electricity costs money. Don't take so much cream cheese; save it for later. Are you really going to run the microwave for one cup of coffee? Wipe up that spill before you sit down or it will crust over and be a bigger job. Yeah. A weird sound track plays in my head.
But, like I mentioned, I'm old. I live alone. I can use the bathroom without considering anyone else's bowel schedule. And there is ALWAYS hot water. I can eat what I want when I want. There is NO television. And I can wrap the damn cheese any damn way I want.
So why do I feel so wretchedly guilty if my sink is even half full of dirty dishes? I pride myself on the fact that I am not using stacks of paper plates or plastic silverware for convenience sake. And it would be foolish and wasteful to fill the sink to wash a cup, a spoon, and one luncheon sized plate.
These are lessons from long ago. Maybe not word for word. Probably not taught to any of my siblings in quite an identical manner. Hopefully not taught with any animosity. But there all the same. And, DAMN this stuff is hard.
I'm still the girl who feels guilty sleeping a leetle bitty bit later than usual. And I'm talking the difference between pre- and actual sunrise. Roosters got nothing on me. No dawdling allowed. Dress and get going for cryin' out loud.
Breakfast prep? Do it in the dark if at all possible because electricity costs money. Don't take so much cream cheese; save it for later. Are you really going to run the microwave for one cup of coffee? Wipe up that spill before you sit down or it will crust over and be a bigger job. Yeah. A weird sound track plays in my head.
But, like I mentioned, I'm old. I live alone. I can use the bathroom without considering anyone else's bowel schedule. And there is ALWAYS hot water. I can eat what I want when I want. There is NO television. And I can wrap the damn cheese any damn way I want.
So why do I feel so wretchedly guilty if my sink is even half full of dirty dishes? I pride myself on the fact that I am not using stacks of paper plates or plastic silverware for convenience sake. And it would be foolish and wasteful to fill the sink to wash a cup, a spoon, and one luncheon sized plate.
These are lessons from long ago. Maybe not word for word. Probably not taught to any of my siblings in quite an identical manner. Hopefully not taught with any animosity. But there all the same. And, DAMN this stuff is hard.
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