She'd been sick for three days, dripping brown beneath her tail. Leaving more laundry, more worry, more suspicious spots on the floor. I'd meanwhile washed things I'd not gotten to for years- spontaneously washing a bathroom wall right after a stolen moment to pee; taking down the rust- stained shower curtain and baptizing it repeatedly in toxic noxious cleaner to hide the evidence of showering under a rusty stream of Manitoba gumbo well water. I'd ordered the girls to wash the windows, we'd scrubbed some chairs, counters, cupboards. I stared repeatedly and worriedly at the deck which stubbornly continued to deteriorate before my frantic eyes.
I meant to get to the bedrooms.
But there were groceries to buy, lawns to mow, furniture to rearrange, quack grass to pluck. Tomatoes to plant, perrennials to prune, hedges to trim. Coleslaw to mix, pop to chill, meat to cook.
A drink to mix.
Brian's family was coming for the day.
And then they came, and they were here, and they were lovely. I kicked myself under the tables arranged around the yard as we sat in the sunshine sharing our lives and pork on a bun. There was bocce ball, trampolining, and kittens to chase. Hot coffee, cinnamon buns, chocolate cake. Talking, laughing, relaxing, letting go.
And was so delighted to find myself wrong.