home alone 4. or would this be 5?

i’m waiting for john to get home.
i had all of these big plans from the moment oscar “woke me up” for the last time at 9:22 this morning… we have a weekend ritual: after john leaves, oscar stays downstairs with gracie for as long as he can, then he runs up the stairs, he lurks stealthily into my bedroom and pads up to the bed. in one big jump he’s at my head, and thus begins to furiously kiss my nose, cheeks, forehead, arms, really whatever he can come in contact with. i grunt and groan and look at the clock. 7:38. john’s probably only been gone for a few minutes. i push oscar down and hope he feels like playing with the other annoyance we bought mainly for him (ok, this is a lie.) –
he comes back fifteen minutes later. we continue this until said get up time – usually about 9:30.
sigh. and i say i want a baby.

anyways… my big plans this morning consisted of jumping out of  bed, showering, playing with the dogs, going for a walk with them and my camera, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, and finding something to wear for this afternoon.

here’s how it really went: sluggishly get out of bed and curse silently about how john and i don’t drink coffee. who doesn’t drink coffee in the mornings? we have a brand new coffee pot that we got for our wedding and i must admit, it’s pretty smashing. have we taken it out of the box? of course not.
why are we like this?

then i continued on by eating some twizzlers out of the 500 pack john gave me for my birthday (as if my ass didn’t get big enough from all that freaking wedding cake), i collapsed on the couch and watched the early show after taking the dogs on the quickest walk humanly possibly, i then skulked upstairs while trying not to wake up the sleeping dogs (of course they’re tired now!), where i proceeded to change from john’s plaid boxers to my black pajama pants. of course i didn’t worry about changing my black t-shirt and red cable-knit sweater. i didn’t even bother trading my glasses for contacts or my sleepy eyes for even just a hint of eyeliner. who do i even know that would be around cherrydale on a saturday morning? i mean come on, i’m logical.

i drove to rite aid. they didn’t have my shade of foundation. fuck.
walgreens. score.
foundation, lip gloss, mascara (buy one get one free!), and razors.
how the hell did that take me almost an hour?
i understand why john gets so frustrated with me.
ross. i found a dress. no boots that would fit up my fat calves. or is it calfs? regardless, i am talking about my legs. not baby cattle.
payless. found boots. thank god. i don’t even care that they’re thirty dollars.
john might.
tj maxx. surely they have tights there. why doesn’t anyone carry tights? who wears pantyhose or socks anyways?!
tights. a black bra. and twilight.
i might as well, apparently it’s a good book. and hey, the movie’s coming out…
chick-fil-a. more people should have diet dr. pepper… how do they not realize this?
get gas. wow. $1.89. full tank = $27.00
how did i spend so much money today…
i come home and am instantly greeted by two things that show me more love and affection than i give them credit for.
i eat. i share my fries with them.
i get on the computer… this is such a waste of time…
i’m completely using the excuse that i’m just waiting for john to get home. i hate showering when he’s not here (also such a lie.) i need to get ready for today. it’s john’s sister’s wedding and i’m taking the pictures.
reminding me that this really is such a waste of time…


About Rachel Halsey

i'm like a faucet that leaks, but there is comfort in the sound.

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