It was a sunny day.
Mommalina woke with the sun. She
could not get herself out of bed, not because she was ill, but because she had
no particular plan for the day. The
plush mattress and stack of soft pillows created a luxurious cocoon; the Fall day made the high thread-count sheets the perfect temperature. It was not too warm and not too cool; it was
just right.
Mommalina stared at her fingers, wondering how she managed
to chip her pricey manicure. Without
moving from her comfortable position, she reached over to her nightstand and
pulled her cellphone from its charger.
Finding the spa number on speed dial, she booked an appointment to
restore perfection to her evenly filed and painted nails.
No longer able to find a cool side on her pillows, Mommalina
arose and headed for the shower. It was
a Fall day that left a chill in the house—too warm for heat and too cool for
air conditioning. She was annoyed to
discover that her husband had neglected to turn on the switches for the radiant
floor system and the heated towel rack in the bathroom. The marble floor was a shock to her bare feet,
giving her an unwelcome case of goosebumps.
She brushed her teeth, making a mental note to nag her
husband for the umpteenth time not to squeeze the tube in the middle. Standing in front of her closet, she sighed,
not knowing what the day would bring.
Should she put on her old jeans and a “chore shirt,” or the good jeans
with a washable silk top? She hates when
she can’t decide what to wear. As if in
response to her dilemma, the phone rings.
It was her husband reminding her that old friends were in town and she
was to meet them at the restaurant at noon.
She was relieved to find a focal point for her day.
She spent the rest of the morning applying make-up and styling
her hair. Glancing at her watch, she
realized that she should have left fifteen minutes earlier to make it into town
for her lunch date. She stuffed her
iphone 5 in her Gucci bag while stepping into two different Tori Burch flats,
deciding at last on the brown suedes over the black patent leathers.
Once in the car, Mommalina cursed out loud at the Talk Radio
blasting at her from every direction.
She hates when her husband changes her radio station. Why can’t he simply listen to her Top 40s
station on those rare occasions when he drives her car? At least this car remembers her personalized
seat settings so she does not have to fumble underneath to slide forward to
reach the gas pedal.
Pulling up in front of the restaurant, the valet attendant
opened the driver’s door and handed her a ticket. Quickly, she ran inside hoping she was not too terribly late for
lunch. As she stood in the vestibule, trying to straighten her
outfit and shake out her hair, she found herself cornered by the valet, who
needed the key fob for her car in order to drive and park it. Frightfully embarrassed, she foraged in her
purse until she found it.
Finally seated, she apologized to her guests for holding up their
lunch. Scanning the menu, she sighed
deeply when she did not find the specific pasta dish she had the last time she dined
here. This was the reason she had
suggested this restaurant, setting her heart and her palate on that tasty dish. Biting her lip in frustration, she pointed
to something on the menu, but repeated her disappointment to the server.
Back at home, Mommalina stretched out in a comfy chair to read
a book. Within a few minutes, the
phone rang. Cursing to herself for the
interruption, she closed her eyes until the ringing stopped, and then resumed
her place, thankful for a quiet afternoon.
As dinner hour approached, she was glad for the large lunch,
allowing her to simplify meal preparation.
Checking the refrigerator, she was pleased to find enough leftovers to
put together a casual meal but dismayed at the poor job her husband had done
covering the food. Opening the pantry,
she was furious at the disorder that she found.
Although her husband had made dinner the night before, he put all the
spices and condiments away randomly.
After dinner, Mommalina sprawled out upon the couch and
clicked on the television, irritated to discover that her favorite shows had
been pre-empted, replaced by channel upon channel of news shows spouting
statistics and pointing at maps. The fact that it was Election Day had escaped
her notice. She had meant to vote, but having failed to do
so, she merely shrugged it off.
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