Today we slumber. The heat has been sapping our energy, and our general posture resembles melted wax sliding down the couch. Our benefactor rose in the wee hours of the morning to attend a gathering for physical fitness, leaving us in repose at 6:15am. We are in awe of her stamina, as she barely seems to sleep these days, not sleeping until 1:00am the evening prior, especially considering her significant age advantage. One of us was awoken briefly to provide a necessary image for ordering our celebratory dessert for our festivities tomorrow. She recovered by eating a toaster waffle and returning to sleep.
Our preparations for our party continue to move forward. Today we will finish rearranging our space to accommodate guests, and prepare vittles for the celebration. It should be a grand time, provided we are spared the chaos we have grown accustomed to. We look forward to hosting our friends and family for this joyous occasion.
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Not much to report. Our homestead lives in a constant state of chaos and dishevelment. The benefactor is beginning to question if we have what it takes for individual survival. Summer has bloomed and it is excessively hot, leading to flared tempers and frustration. Everyone seems to react like a struck match, and we are dying for rain to break the spell.
We are deep in preparation for the celebration of life we are hosting this weekend. Every morning our benefactor gives us a list of what we must accomplish, and every day we do not complete it. It is our dance. We are waiting to see how patiently she can ask us to weed the front lawn before it becomes a confrontation. She is unaware of our secret, psychological testing. So far, she has passed. It is quieter without the younger two, less frantic, yet we miss their constant questioning of authority and useful ability to wear down the benefactor’s will when we are battling for something we deem necessary for our continuance. Tis our greatest weapon. We look forward to their return tomorrow. This morning came at a frantic pace. With the exception of the youngest of us, we woke late, and rushed to prepare for the first day of summer. The eldest male was to prepare lunches the night before, but in his usual fashion, forgot. We hastily filled our pails with whatever we could pull together in a miniscule amount of time.
The youngest carried her pet skeleton, Fluffy, all morning in a blanket, as it was cold. The kind benefactor was informed that Fluffy objected to having a photograph preserve her image, and might, in fact, bite her face off. The youngest, we shall call her CR, also regaled the benefactor with gossip from her day camp, including an intensive story where another friend told her friend that 'her heart was black as night'. The benefactor was taken aback by such a vivid statement from such a short person. Our morning crescendoed when the youngest male, call him CT, lay hands on CR, invoking a spate of weeping, after she stomped on his foot. For the 1,000,000th time the kind benefactor reminded him that he should seek her for counsel before attempting to solve his own injustices. CT claimed that he was acting in self-defense, whereas the benefactor pointed out that he, in fact, was merely enacting vengeance. We then argued the entire way to our transport, where the benefactor felt it necessary to raise the volume of the music box to a level where she could no longer hear our voices, leaving us to eat toasted waffles without speaking. Twas a hectic morning. No one wished to rouse, and the kind benefactor had to remind us several times to awaken. She herself was exhausted from manufacturing new beds for the females the previous evening in the sweltering heat. The afternoon repast was hastily packed as it was forgotten the evening before. Breakfast was a simple dish of strawberries and Mexican crema, prompting the youngest to yell to her slightly older brother, "Come get your Mexican," as her eldest, Mexican brother looked on with a mixture of confusion and slight offense. The saving grace of the morning was that the elder female did not need to be awaken from her slumber, which is always a precarious and dangerous endeavor. Tonight we continue to build, preparing the house for weekend festivities, provided we can continue to thrive in this chaotic world.
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AuthorWelcome to the jungle of my life as a 40-something single mother of four. Archives
May 2018
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