I often get lost in my thoughts. Sort of like that No Doubt song, “Spiderwebs.”
…Sorry, I’m not home right now, I’m walking in the spiderwebs, so leave a message and I’ll call you back….
Boring television show on, my mind wanders…What am I going to cook for dinner? Do I have milk? Crap, do I have meat defrosted? Why the hell should I have to cook every night?
Folding clothes…Why does the paper-boy always chuck my paper at the sole tree in my yard? Is it out of anger? Is he venting about the fact that he’s riding around town at 4 am chucking papers? (Told you I was random)
Sitting around a fire with people that are of no consequence to me…What is he doing right now? When he texted or called the other day out of the blue just to say hello, what did that mean? Do I really cross his mind that often or was that just part of some stupid game to secure his right to obliterate my girly-bits the next time he sees me?
Laying in bed next to my husband…Does he really love me? Does he really find me attractive or am I just readily available and comfortable? When he checks his phone, is he doing the same thing I am? Is he wondering what some pretty little thing is doing or thinking when she texts him out of the blue?
Brushing my mini-me’s hair in the morning before our commute…Does she deliberately disobey me? Does she understand what I’m saying? Am I raising her right? Do I want another child?
My life is filled with questions. Most of which are internal and don’t have a clear answer. The ones that keep me up at night are the most frustrating and the most private. They say a guilty conscience sees itself in the ones it loves the most. So, are these questions/feelings my guilt? My fear of not doing things to the best of my ability?
Inside my head, it’s a windstorm of thoughts, questions, uncertainties, certainties, responsibilities, desires, dreams (and desires and dreams are definitely two separate ideas here)…While all that’s going on, I’m supposed to be a mild-mannered wife, mother, and insurance agent externally. So, to that end, it’s almost like I have a double life. While I may be sitting quietly at my desk, in this conservative office, wearing my pressed blue button down shirt, perfectly positioned pencil skirt, hair and makeup done, answering phones, smiling at customers, e-mailing quotes to customers…my brain has taken the inner-me to a different part of town. To an apartment, where the curtains are drawn, and dirty, nasty rap music is playing. And I’m doing one of the very few things that allows me to worry about one thing and one thing alone. My pleasure. No questions, no worry, no concern for dinner, work, feelings.
Pretty freeing actually.
<<<Addendum to the above post: I’ve been holding this one in for a while because I don’t want to look like a blog-whore, quite literally. I don’t want this to be all about sex and the other man. But that’s what I feel right now. Part of the wind-storm…mom, wife, mistress, employee, daughter, sister, cousin…Too many hats to sort out. That’s why I write.>>>
Diary of a Dirty Domestic Goddess 