Today, my mom had minor surgery, and I spent the day in the waiting room with my dad, so that I could run out to get lunch and provide general moral support. This sounds terrible, but it was the most fabulous day ever. Ivan stayed at home with his dad with the understanding that I would come home WHENEVER.
There was no stipulation on my time. I packed two books, a magazine and some knitting. There is no way to describe to you the freedom I felt as I easy-wheeled out the driveway. The surgery took place in an outpatient facility on Vanderbilt's campus, and I was able to park my car and walk through campus amongst a generation of people who had not yet given thought to procreation. I sauntered out to get lunch without a care in the world, and I mulled over the menu at the counter without trying to half-read and half-chase my child.
It might have been the freest day I have had since I have had the baby, because I had finished my workout early (neighborhood run with the jog stroller and Gilad) and there was nothing I was obligated to do but sit and knit. Now, here is what I want to know, what sort of deal can I make with the devil to get more WHENEVER days. Does he want part of my soul? How bad would it be to just give the devil part of my soul? To just Dorian Gray out. It would be really bad. I know it would be really bad.
Sometimes, before we had the baby, I would go visit my college roommate and we would stay up watching movies, and I would then just decide to spend the night rather than drive home. I would just spend the night away from home ON A WHIM. Who does that?? I used to do that. ME in another lifetime.
At home, I would describe my house as having a Calcutta level filth rating. It is amazing how seriously dirty the house can get when my husband is left to fend for himself.
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