My life is so harrowing. I actually had to listen to men work on the roof of my house today. I was terrified, I tell you, hearing them walk around like they weren’t 3 stories up without a safety net. I thought about asking them to walk quieter, but then I realized that would involve me actually getting my rump off the couch, and I just couldn’t do it. I thought loudly to the worker men, although they don’t seem to be tuned in to my thought waves.
We’re getting a new roof. It’s lighter than the old one--not in weight, because how would I know that, honestly? In color. All things being equal, I probably would have chosen the black roof because that’s how I feel on the inside, ha ha, but it turns out that a lighter roof lasts a few years longer. A few years longer than the 30-40 years this new one should last, anyway.
I have a long list of things I ought to do today. Fold kid underwear is among them. But I just can’t be bothered. Instead, I did valuable things like downloading books from Itunes and soaking my gym-sore muscles in a hot bath. I haven’t even bothered to brush my hair, not that anyone would notice, anyway, because I sort of have that fried-at-the-end look going. And roots. Nice, brown roots. Well, brown except for the increasingly large percentage of white roots.
Know what I’d really like to do today? Lay on a blanket in the backyard, soaking up the perfect 70 degree weather. Except, we’re getting a new roof. And it feels a bit creepy to lay out, even fully dressed, when we have 5 men in steel-toed boots climbing up and down ladders. Sort of Misery-creepy. Sort of old-white-lady-looking-for-a-hoochie-man creepy.
Besides, I’d have to move my body, and I really, really don’t feel like moving again.