It's the most beautiful Saturday, actually Spring-like, and I'm sitting here eating a microwaved hot dog after a two hour nap in our empty apartment. It's past 3 in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas. Drew took Chloe to hang out with his brother, etc., and they're all at the Short Hills mall in Jersey now. I told him last night that I wanted to sleep in, so he said he'd take Chloe out, and I was grateful. He's sent me pictures of her napping in the car and "shopping" at the mall. Meanwhile I'm wondering why I thought they'd be back after lunch.
But I guess I should be using this time to edit that manuscript I've barely even started on. And I feel bad, slightly, that I haven't done any housework. The rugs needs to be vacuumed, our bedroom is in disarray, the laundry needs to be done, our shower curtain smells mildewy, and there are the remains of Chloe's breakfast on our dining table -- yellow, dried up pieces of a scrambled egg.
I hear footsteps up the stairs, wonder if it's them. I hear keys clinking, and think it's got to be Drew about to open the door. And then I realize that it's just our neighbors.
Earlier today, I watched UP. That cartoon of the old man with a square jaw and fingers and glasses and his house carried by balloons, and that rotund boy with all the wild explorer badges. I sat on our big gray couch and laughed and laughed. And wondered why I didn't watch cartoons more often.
Wonder why I don't do a lot of things more often.
