Fresh Start

It was one of those days that tried so hard to be right but kept being wrong anyway. I was contentedly drinking my coffee chatting with Chef as the beasts sweetly barked in my ear to go outside. For the 11 millionth time I rose to let them out and go sit in the chilly spring sun to supervise my runaway horrible rotten beast as Chef asked again how much the fence was going to cost. With the sinking gut clench that forewarned his buyers remorse was coming, I pointed him in the direction of the folder holding the quote. He began to research alternatives to the fence man who was due to come in just 3 days. Three more days until my dog drama was over and Chef wanted to reevaluate the project, maybe put the fence in himself when he had time (never). The weather inside our home became chilly with storm clouds threatening. The dog decided to defecate in the neighbor’s yard. I looked for a frying pan to gently nudge Chef back into the project. It wasn’t even 9 am.

The church men’s group was scheduled to do a grounds project, Chef asked if I could make some lunch for them. I preferred to stay in my jammies until time for the fancy dinner later in the evening but recognized that was pretty selfish. Also Chef may have a frying pan of his own. I got dressed, went to the store, went to the church, started lunch, only to get a text from Chef  about 15 minutes in saying actually they were done and leaving. Now if you are thinking that I killed my wonderful Chef you would be wrong. He was taking me to a black tie dinner later so I had to keep him alive long enough to wear my fancy dress and have delightful wine. But you would be correct in guessing that I stood in the very church where I worship each week and committed the sin of considering harming him. Remember Jimmy Carter’s honesty when he said adultery is even allowing his thoughts to stray? I am convicted of bad stuff in my church kitchen. Still, I unmade lunch, did the dishes and returned home to my poor beasts who had been cooped up unnecessarily. To discover one of them, I am sure it was Chef’s, had defecated in the house. What a lovely day this was turning out to be.

When Chef called on his way home from the church and began chatting like the day was still wonderful, I educated him on reality. His laughter did not lend authenticity to his apology. I want back to bed. Sometimes a fresh start is the only hope for a day like this. There I stayed until a stink bug swirled and buzzed with helicoptered whirling and chose to land on my pillow. Then his friend joined on the window. Then another. Damnit. Every time I got settled and cozy and warm, up again to remove the disgusting smelly insects that rule hell and my nap time. I wanted some beauty sleep to prepare for my fancy dress because I knew this cinderella generally goes to sleep about the time the ball was starting. I knew that crabby frown lines did not match my dress. I knew I needed an attitude alteration. But c’mon. What else could happen?

The rod holding up our shower curtain fell, I put it back up, hung the curtain back up, it fell again. Twice more. I couldn’t find a tube of lipstick to save my soul. I did find the cap to one in the drawer where Plum has stashed away all bits of makeup I used to have. His war paint. Still, I had a fancy dress and I was going to have real wine and talk to other people and it was going to be great. I had kept my dress secret from Chef, knowing, just knowing he was going to be wowed by this baby. He said I looked nice. Seriously? I sent a horrific selfie to my friend who overlooked my jacked up expression and only noted my amazing dress. She affirmed that I looked quite fancy and that my dress was beautiful and we discussed that I who have never won any awards for filling out a t-shirt, had quite a rack. These are conversations you can mostly only have with a really good girlfriend who understands that you almost killed your husband today and you just want to be dressed up and go out.  I hope you have that kind of friend.

First stop was a pub so Chef could get a beer and watch the game. Really.  That happened. But we did get to the event and I looked fancy in my dress and we had wonderful food and delish wine and I met new people. Cinderella made it to the ball and didn’t spill anything or trip even once. It was fun and refreshing. Then we came home, Chef let the cats out and went to bed. I really wanted to discuss calmly with Chef how delighted I was with his pet care so I daintily stomped up the stairs to our bedroom to find him snoring. My Prince Charming.  Back downstairs, back outside,  in all my finery, calling cats and beasts and wondering how we survived such a crazy day. The answer is, some days you just have to keep starting over, all the way up until you let it go and accept that a new day is coming. Somedays you have to reach out to others to help push that reset button, to help you find you own beauty. Chef just wasn’t feeling the party. He was focused inward, his own thoughts and concerns clouding his view. It is unfortunate but sometimes that just happens. One day does not a marriage make. Dressing up is not really me anyway. Play acting, pretending to be what I am not. This cinderella is much more recognizable in pajama pants and thick socks. A day of miscommunication and grand expectations was finally over. To be fair, I am certain there are plenty of days that I miss all the cues that Chef gives me, all the subtle and not so much, hints that this is kinda a big deal, and I just don’t see it. More often than not I am looking inward. Thank God for fresh starts and new days.

Today is already starting better. We have enjoyed our coffee together and rehashed the night. All the pets are where they are supposed to be. It is early, yes, but I have a good feeling about today. Also, anyone need a really fancy dress?


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