Monday, January 30, 2017
Mother's Little Helper
I look in the guest room and, like Goldilocks, could ask, "Who's been sleeping in my bed?" The answer is, no one. Ralph has been at it again. He looks at me with wide golden eyes and an innocent expression when accused and assures me he's "helping." I've not actually seen him making (re-making) the bed, but I'm pretty sure he races down the hall, makes a slight right turn and a leap, and skids across, leaving everything in disarray.
He reminds me of when my Kids were little. One time I was washing windows. This was back in the day before there were the sprays, etc., that are one-step cleaners. These were the vinegar-water and newspaper times that left the windows clean and your hands black. I started in one room and worked my way through the house. Finished with that onerous chore at last, I went back to admire the results and found that one of my Kids who shall remain nameless was "washing" the windows again: this time with Vaseline. It's easier to laugh than cry.
The Stones' song referred to a specific drug, Miltown, a tranquilizer that, at the time, no one realized was terribly addicting. Many women took it for anxiety and became dependent, but that wasn't known then. Four little Kids were cause for anxiety, even when they weren't "helping." A friend gave me one Miltown to try and told me it worked wonders for her. I did a system check and decided I wasn't anxious enough to warrant taking the pill just then and put it away in a box. Periodically I would be ready to pull my hair out and would remember the Miltown. "Is it time?" That pill stayed in the box for years until it finally disintegrated. So much for that.
Lest I've given the impression that these sunny days that have lured me outside were actually warm, let me say that there is still snow on the ground and even some on the deck, wherever there is shade. It's all relative, and I'll take what I get and be glad that I've got it.
Excuse me, I've got a bed to straighten.