Monday, November 20, 2006

Mental Calculations

Let’s see? It must be eight years and a bit because she’s eight now, don’t count the 40 weeks of pregnancy before, that obviously doesn’t count. [translation = challenged by math{s} buried in guilt] So yes, that’s eight years total. [translation = overall] I feel as if I’ve won the lottery without buying one. The new timetable [translation = schedule] means that all of them are at school simultaneously for nearly three hours five days a week! I have time! I have lots of time! Millenniums of time just for little me! [translation = oodles]

What shall I do with it all? It’s so tantalizing, enough to send you round the bend [translation = mad, not the angry kind of mad but the barking kind of mad, as in barking mad which means nutty which means borderline mental stability] Perhaps this is empty nest syndrome a decade early? [translation = or a decade late, depending upon where you start counting]

I can visit the dentist every day without panicking that I won’t be back in time. Perhaps not. There’s only so much tweaking you can do. Laundry? Always a good choice, but there won’t be any until they come home. Cleaning? I sterilized the house last night. I check for falling dust particles. Wait for them to fall. I try and think what I used to do, when I had time, but I can’t remember. [translation = senility has arrived just in time to save me.]

Technically I have eight years of work to catch up on, but now I have the time, I can’t think what it was that I was behind with? Perhaps I should make next year’s Christmas presents? I should probably take up tennis or become a ‘lady who lunches’ or, or? Or what?

Lunch? Technically lunch is at 1 o’clock, so that won’t work because they’ll be back by then. Out here they have lunch at eleven. I could be a lady who lunches at eleven but think of it as elevenses instead? [translation = coffee break time ] But I can’t lie to myself, I would know that it was really eleven. I could change the time of my watch. Turn it forward a couple of hours to deceive myself instead of just setting it my usual five minutes fast, so that I’m not late? But that would be too confusing to be two hours behind and five minutes in front simultaneously.

I don’t like tennis. I never liked tennis. I played tennis but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because technically it was exercise and I’ve always been allergic to exercise in all it's many variants. Strictly speaking, as opposed to technically speaking, running around chasing a small ball is really the responsibility of a pet dog. There again, since we don’t have a dog, pet or otherwise, perhaps that should be my new role, running around chasing a ball. I could take up barking lessons? Mrs. N has a voice coach. Perhaps she knows someone in that field that she could recommend? Perhaps I should just stay in the field?

I could write? But I’ve nothing to write about because they’re not here. I wonder if anyone ever really dies of terminal boredom technically speaking? Or should that be strictly?

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