Sometimes

Sometimes I open the fridge door and look for something to eat. I soon discover there is nothing to eat and then after I eat something I don’t really want to eat, I soon discover the thing I wanted to eat in the first place. So I’ll eat that too.

Sometimes I just relent and give my children the little more freedom they seem to crave in increments each few months and then wait and worry and wonder and wax and wane with worry and then worry again and wonder if I did the right thing.

Sometimes I get interrupted by whatever (the phone, a comment, someone at the door, another request for money, air, etc) and then I cannot remember what it was I wanted to do when I was interrupted.

Sometimes I want to surrender and leave the back door open the way the kids left it and leave the piles of plates and cups and books and banana peels and various other bits and pieces deposited by my family and myself in various piles or maybe just flame-throw everything instead of returning it to its place.

Sometimes I don't want to return the DVDs that I didn't even watch but I know if I don't that it will still be three months later and I will end up paying a $450.00 late charge.

Sometimes I just want to speak to a customer service representative who is not a machine.

Sometimes I just want to speak to a customer service representative who speaks English.

Sometimes I just want to read and shut the door.

Sometimes I just don’t feel like scraping the windshield and so I look out through the steering wheel where the frost has melted and then realize that I’m going to run over something or someone if I keep doing this and then I do it again the next morning. (Especially in May...it snowed here this morning.)

Sometimes I realize I need to relearn patience.