It’s one of those days.
They just won’t leave me alone.
Claire, stops by to pick up her large green parrot who I’ve been babysitting for three weeks and whose cage I frantically cleaned this morning. She chats and plays with her bird. Meanwhile, I’m thinking, take him home and let me get back to the numerous projects on my to-do list.
A charity calls, asking for a donation. “Don’t you want to be one of those people who help a dying child’s dream come true?” I mumble yes. “Great, I’ll connect you with Joanne who will go over your information.” I clutch the phone, rolling my eyes, feeling guilty that I am so impatient, when dying children are waiting for their dreams.
Interruptions keep snagging my progress. At 3:00 pm I glimpse hope. Another hour and my current project will be completed. The phone rings. I force cheerfulness. It’s my husband. He asks what’s going on? I want to tell him nothing now that I am standing in the middle of the room talking to him instead of working, but instead I manage, “Not much.”
“I’ll be home in ten minutes for a walk,” he says.
He asks about my day as he grabs his tennis shoes and white ankle socks.
I let my frustration for all the interruptions of the day ooze out and suck away my joy at him coming home early to walk on this rare winter day in January with a temperature of 60 degrees. He listens as we walk through the garage and out to the street. And then he starts. “Maybe you need to manage your time better. You could have told Claire to leave sooner and not answered the phone.”
I sputter. “Should I be rude to guests?”
I am guest posting at Christen Spratt‘s blog, where she Offers Hope for Mom’s in the Trenches.