I Need a Pill

I had it all - for about 45 seconds.

I was fed.  Comfortable.  Not too warm, not too cold.  Dishes were done.  House was clean.  Sweet, sweet quiet.  Tav walked out the front door with his buddy to go to the circus, not to return for at least 3 hours.  I was completely, utterly, profoundly alone.

"You're looking pretty sweet tonight," I purred to my laptop.  My index finger teased a trail along its black curves.  It was going to happen-we both knew it.

I was going to write the hell out of my book tonight.

The slam of a car door-the slam of a gate-the slam of the kitchen door.  Boom.  Two adult children show up with an Xbox.  A flash, an instant.  That's all I had.   If I would have leaped to my feet and craned my neck, I probably could have still caught a glimpse of the car carrying my son away as it chugged down 4th Avenue as two child-women stomped in the back door.

I'm getting the munchies.  Uncomfortable.  It's rather stuffy in here, and there is a fresh pile of dishes in the sink.  There are 2 extra pairs of shoes, purses, Xbox paraphernalia cluttering my floor.  The RATTATTATATATATATT of Xbox zombie-killing machine gun fire permeates every molecule of oxygen in the room and is shredding my nervous system.  I can even feel it in my teeth.

Robert Downey, please come and take me away from all this madness.  I'm due.  I am so due.