Lazy Girl

I was staring at the coffeemaker this morning, wishing it were the weekend. Not because I had to get up at some ungodly hour to work, but because on the weekends, Billy-Bob fills my coffeemaker. My sweet hubby’s coffee is too strong for me to drink, so I have my own little machine to make my weak, but necessary, brew. Billy-Bob would never tell me my coffee was terrible, but he manages to convey the sentiment in subtle ways. I am not so kind about his brew. I watch him grind the beans that he roasted himself on the back porch, and as he stuffs the filter basket with an ungodly amount, I bring my hands up to encircle my neck and make strangled gagging noises. On the few occasions that I have attempted to drink his coffee, I have loaded it with milk and held my nose. Were Billy-Bob forced to drink my coffee, like that could ever happen, I’m pretty sure he would respond in much the same way as the Texas rancher in a romance novel I read. Forced to drink hospital coffee, this rancher commented in what is now one of my favorite metaphors of all time: “I could get stronger brew if I put a coffee bean up a duck’s ass and filled my cup downstream.” Thankfully, my hubby is not a Texan.

Billy-Bob gets up first on the weekend. When he’s awake, he’s up. He dresses, retrieves the paper from the end of the drive, and begins his daily grind. Rising from bed is a longer process for me. I tend to stretch and roll like a fat, pampered cat deciding if anything is really worth getting up from this warm, comfortable spot. After several minutes of yawning and bemoaning the necessity of getting up at all, I eventually slide myself out of the bed and over to the sink, only to see in the mirror what the fat cat dragged in. The temptation to return to the bed is barely resistible. By the time I am lured downstairs, still in my jammies, by the need for coffee, Billy-Bob is drinking his. He greets me with a smile, and occasionally throws caution to the wind by saying, “Good afternoon.” But all is forgiven when I walk over to my coffeemaker and find it filled with water, a filter jauntily perched atop the basket. Scoop in the coffee, press ON, and out comes the nectar of the gods. Sweet Jesus! Sweet hubby.

As I stared at the empty coffeemaker this morning, I imagined the maw of the empty reservoir was filled with fresh water, glistening with the light’s reflection, winking at the filter’s jaunty paper hat. I found myself entertaining the thought of asking my hubby to fill my coffeemaker before he goes to work! I could feel my own eyes widen in surprise. My god! I am a Spoiled Princess! I AM a Lazy Girl! My dad had tried to tell me for years, and I would bristle at his words. Now I knew. How did I react to this startling revelation? Did I set out to disprove it? Did I attack the crumbs on the counter or assault the clutter on the kitchen table? Did I destroy the dust on the furniture or decimate the detritus on the floor? Did I decide to vigorously vacuum or launch a load of laundry? No. Lord, no. I made my coffee and turned on my laptop to write this piece, once again passing up a distasteful task for something I enjoy doing. It’s been twenty years since I went into therapy and learned to embrace my Inner Bitch. Certainly I can do the same for Lazy Girl. I’ll learn to wear her like a badge. Complaints can be sent to Imalazygirl@email.com. That and a bean up a duck’s ass will get you cup of coffee.

Toggle Town Toity

There was trouble in Toggle Town. Everyone knew it.
But each Toggle questioned how Toggles could do it.
They’d enter the privy, and the Toggles would find,
That a Toggle before them left empties behind!

Each Toggle would cry, “Oh, there’s nothing to wipe with!
What to do now? There’s no TP to swipe with!”
There were rolls kept in boxes, spare rolls on the hook,
But some weren’t replacing the rolls that they took!

And each weary Toggle found each empty roll
A terrible burden. It took quite a toll.
Till at the next meeting, one said with a glare,
“Stop leaving the privy with no TP there!”

A He-Toggle snickered, one laughed with a blast he
Just couldn’t imagine how awful, how nasty
It was to be stuck with no TP in sight.
He-Toggles so rarely are found in this plight.

Some Toggles protested and said, sounding snotty,
“I won’t be in charge of TP in the potty!
So few Toggles bother, you might as well face it.
It just isn’t Toggle-folks’ job to replace it!”

Up spoke a Toggle, “We need to be kind.
We all need to act just as if OUR behind
Were the one in the stall seeking TP while bared
And wishing the previous Toggle had cared.”

So the Toggles agreed they would all take the minute
It took to make sure the stall had TP in it.
So let’s do what’s kind, like the Toggle Town clan did.
Replace the TP and leave no Toggle stranded!

Sweet Caroline

She teases me from a distance,
Her blue eyes flashing,
Her smile like sunshine.
Her laughter is a gift,
A tonic for my soul.
Slowly she approaches, and
Without a care in the world,
She leans her sweet body into mine.
I savor her nearness, then boldly
I slip my hand up her back
And run my fingertips over her warm, soft skin.
For a moment, she is still,
Her face frozen in pleasure.
She presses closer, and
My breath catches as
She leans over to share a sweet kiss.
For one brief moment,
The world is perfect, and
I sigh with a light heart.
I’m in love.
Sweet Caroline,
Just one year old.