I have been over pouring my tea all week. This is what happens when I get lustful and a man gets under my skin. I’ve walked into branches more than once – branches, mind you, that I previously warned visitors about because I was so practiced in avoiding them. One morning at work, I had to return to my car three separate times due to forgetfulness.
Add to that a mix of germs from the kids all week, and I might as well be walking sideways. At the school, our students have been puking left and right the last two days. I’m crossing my fingers that I’m not next. Right before little kids puke they get the most lonely, helpless look on their faces. It’s almost reaching, terrified, yet, eager for relief. I have recently discovered that this face instantly triggers a mothering instinct in me that I previously denied. For the child, throwing up literally “brings up” something. Assisting in the deed by holding a little one’s hair back as she instinctually heaves over a toilet bowl, now brings up a hazy vision of some distant family life I might call my own. Before, I would just think of holding my friends’ hair back in college.
A lot is changing. Tonight marks my first night out of my little cabin and into the big house (just sixty feet through the woods) for the winter. Here, I will housesit for three months for the landlords as part of my “rent” for the smaller unit. More importantly, here, there is running hot water and full indoor plumbing (yes, that means toilet and bath). Oh Lord, washing the dishes tonight was heavenly.