When I Come Home

After a long day of being somewhere else

(Are you wondering where I went? Me too. Maybe it was down the hill to work. Or down the hill to get the tires rotated at Costco. Or up the hill to take my son to cross country ski practice. It could have been anywhere. But mostly, it was just not home with my birdfeeders, tea on demand, my favorite walking paths. Home is basically my favorite.)

But when I finally get home

After that long day of being somewhere else

Before I sit?

There are a few things I need to do.

The dog needs his evening treat. He somehow knows it’s time, every evening like clockwork, right around 5:30 PM.

Also? If he has food, then he often complains until we fill up his water cup with fresh water. Don’t believe him for a second when he tells you he has no water. There is water for him all over the house. But he doesn’t like that water. He wants it to be fresh out of the tap.

The cat says that he is starving and that he needs another scoop of food. He gets four a day, which according to the label on his “Healthy Weight” cat food, will help him lose weight and become sleek and trim again. (“Healthy Weight” food is code for “Your cat is so fat” food). The cat is not honest, though, and swears that he has not eaten ENOUGH today, and meows and meows until we give in and give him one more scoop. Just one! Because we can’t remember how many scoops he got before we left. Except, because he is not honest, he probably ends up with close to double the recommended daily feeding amount listed on the “Healthy Weight” cat food bag. Which might explain why he is so big.

Before I sit, the car needs to be unloaded. Sometimes it’s groceries. Sometimes it is dirty massage sheets and empty lotion bottles. My lunch sack. The cup that held the hot tea that I enjoyed this morning. The bottle that carried the iced tea that helped me through the rest of the day. The mail, that we grabbed at the post office. My laptop and journal, a reading book, my walking shoes: because often it is a long time between the time we leave in the morning and finally get home at night. It often takes two or three trips to bring in all this good stuff. And it’s a lot of stuff.

Then my son reminds me that he is hungry. This is understandable, especially if he’s had play rehearsal until 5 pm and we do not get home until 5:30. His school lunch was hours ago. Also, I am hungry too. I might even be “hangry.” If we are lucky, on very good days, I’ve left dinner cooking in the crockpot. Maybe chili. Maybe our favorite vegetable soup. If we are not lucky, I will open the refrigerator, say “Mmmmm,” close it, and then open the freezer and pull out the pizza pockets or mini corndogs. Most of our good, healthy, fresh food lives in the refrigerator. Freezer food tends to be a last resort. Sometimes, it is a “last resort” kind of day.

Before I sit, I realize that the fire needs attention, that it is thankfully still alive, but it needs wood, and quickly. I stoke the fire, add a log or two, then remember the dirty massage sheets in the basket by the front door. I collect them, put them in the wash. Take the clean clothes out of the dryer. Dump then on the bed. Yell for someone else to come and sort the clothes, please. Notice that the plants look a little wilted. Try to remember when I watered them last. Go to the kitchen, fill up a glass, make several trips to the plants. Make sure they are happy again. Notice the dirty tea cups and lunch dishes in the sink. Wash them. Realize that the dishwasher need to be unloaded. Do that.

Sometimes, an hour passes before I sit. Sometimes? Even more. There are so many things that clamor for my attention, so many little bits of work that must be done to maintain life as we know it. I wonder if it could be different. But if I sat down right away when I got home, if I took a little rest, then it is possible that I might not get up again. I would just sit for the rest of the evening.

Maybe I would sit forever.

Then the dog and cat would have fits. There would be no dinner. We would starve. The fire would go out and we would freeze. The plants would die. The dishes would get crusty. The laundry would overflow. Chaos would descend. Life as we know it would cease to exist.

Or would it?

Maybe tomorrow I could ask for a little more help. Maybe the world wouldn’t end, if I took a  break and sat for a minute when I first get home. Maybe?

Honestly, though? I am not sure.

I do not think that I will be sitting when I first get home anytime soon.