Sleeping In

Saturday had finally arrived. No small children whose arrival would drag me out of bed before 7 am., no appointments to make, just a house that was quiet and still. I planned to sleep late, maybe until nine o'clock, but someone stirring in my kitchen woke me from my slumber. It was my dear mother; up, dressed, and washing the dishes. I will say that she was trying to do them quietly, but there are no carpets to absorb noise in this little house and so every sound carries.

I curled up in my favorite, big chair, tried to shake off the sleepies, and finally decided to hop in the shower with the hope that I would feel more awake upon my exit. Finally, I settled back into the chair to brush out my tangles. Pretty soon my mother said, "Well, maybe I'll take a walk out to the mailbox and get my newspaper..." This is akin to her saying, "How about you get out of that chair and fetch my newspaper?" but I played along. "I can just see you dragging your oxygen tank down the driveway through the snow," I said. But she didn't plan on taking it along, she'd just go without it. She's not fooling me. I got up, found my coat, boots, and mittens, and hauled myself out the back door.

She's not really so much different than me. I like to read my "newspaper" too, only mine happens to be on a little counter in the front room and is connected to a keyboard. Mom reads and rereads her newspaper several times each day (I just heard her fold it up again...), and so do I. I just wish her newspaper was delivered a little closer to the door than it is.