Friday a.m. Stream of Consciousness

My alarm didn’t go off. It’s 7:12am. Still have enough time. Olive’s leg is tiny & warm next to mine. Don’t knock laptop over. Sleeps faithfully next to me. Laptop, not Olive. She prefers Daddy. He is much warmer than me. Laundry everywhere. Fucking really. The Early Show. Wonder if the producer will email me today. Think it’s supposed to be warm. Shirt dress? I’ll have to iron. Where the hell is the iron? Standing in closet. Fucking really. I’m sure social services would take my kids away if they saw this mess. Where is my dress. Bedroom. TV. Laundry basket one. Laundry basket two. These are Olive’s. I should fold these so Mr. Man doesn’t dress her like a mini skater boy today. Fold Fold Fold. I love little people clothes. I wish I could do this all day long. Are these jeans too small for her? She’s getting so tall. Didn’t get that from me. I miss being home with her. Laundry basket three. Oh here are some underwear. Maternity underwear. She’s almost two. Sure, why not. Laundry basket four. Ahhhhhhhhh. Here’s my dress. Of course it’s too wrinkled. Iron in “extra” bedroom. Why doesn’t anyone sleep in here? Oh. I know. Because I kicked my 16 year old niece out to go live with my parents. I hate mean kids. What the hell is in this room. That wall would be a perfect canvas for the fail whale. Iron. Iron. Iron. Shower. This might be my only quiet time all day long. What do we have to do today? Three kids at home w/ no sitter. 13 year old is old enough? They will only be alone for 2 hours. Is that ok? I’ll have ask Mr. Man. Maybe he will tell me it’s not ok. That will get me off the hook from making the decision. Church at 3:30 today. I wonder what Olive will be like through the service. We’ll have to sit in the crying room. I hate sitting in there. I always feel like such a failure. Like I can’t keep my kid quiet enough to sit & worship w/ everyone else. Cellphone ringing. That’s the 3rd time this morning. Who the hell could be calling? Shower Shower Shower. End shower. Moisturizer. Baby Eczema cream on my eyes. I really should invest in some nice face cream. I’m not getting any younger. One day I’m going to wake up & be one of those Asian women that go from pretty…pretty…pretty…pretty…ugh..what the fuck happened she got old. I don’t want to be her. Funny how I buy makeup sponges but always use my fingers. I bet I could use my makeup sponges to paint something wonderful. Damn. Just painted my nails yesterday & they are already chipped. That’s what I get for sitting in my bathroom & painting them myself at 2am instead of just going to a shop. I’m such a crackhead. There goes my cell phone again. Dry hair. Quick quick quick. Shirtdress. Ummm. I look like I just crawled out of bed w/ a stranger and picked his shirt up off the floor. Need a belt. No time. Can’t find my socks. Uggs? At least I won’t have to look for socks. It’s going to be 77 degrees today. Uggs are not a good idea. I’m not that trendy. Cellphone ringing. “YES.” What a rude way to answer a phone. I don’t give a fuck. If you’re calling me that many times then obviously your idea of courtesy is very different from mine. Mother. Yes. Let me call you back when…oh I don’t know…when I’m not standing half naked in the bathroom with my hair wet & foundation on my fingers. Thank you. Hurry Hurry Hurry. Blow dry. No time to eliminate frizz. The bottle never does what the label promises. I’ll have to try w/ a hair brush. I hate hair brushes. I’m sure my mother has hit me w/ one at least once in my life. What was I thinking about? I remember: socks. Floor. Floor. Floor. Jeans. Gym clothes. Boxers. More little people clothes. Heels. Why don’t I ever wear those? Floor. Floor. Floor. No socks. Oh I have some in my gym bag. They are polka dot ankle socks. But they’ll work. I’m wearing boots. Honey, I’m leaving. Call me before you go to work today. Snore. Snort. Should I tell him now that I secretly think of leaving him? No, no. It will turn into a huge discussion & I’ll wonder why I decided to share. I don’t have anywhere to go. Why would I leave? Go go go. Stairs stairs stairs. Why is my belt on the landing? Oooohhh. A belt. I should put it on so I don’t look like I’m getting ready to take the walk of shame to my car. Reminds me of that frat boy I used to date. What was his name? Dogs. Someone has to feed the dogs. I’ll text the boy. He can do it when he gets up. Why isn’t he up? He’s always up early. I love him. Buying that lacrosse stick yesterday was so funny. I kinda feel bad for making him buy it w/ his own money. Gotta do it though. Problem w/ Filipino men is they are raised w/ their mothers wiping their asses all the time when they are boys so they never learn to do anything for themselves. Don’t want him to be that way. Did I just think that? I didn’t mean that. I adore him. Oh that belt looks stupid. I look like barrel. What am I going to eat for lunch today. Wait, do I need to pack a lunch? No. Good Friday. I can leave work early. I don’t need lunch. What was I doing? Oh. Socks. Where are my earrings. Lost that hoop yesterday. Here. I wonder if anyone will notice that I am wearing two different earrings. Do I care? Self-check. Fuck no. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. Phone. Ipod. Keys. Hat. Do I need a hat? I’m not a Rastafarian. Why the hell do I need a hat? Oh. Frizz. Poofy frizz. Still not late. Now where did I put that Ipod. I swear I put it in my purse. Big ass bag. Who the hell needs a bag this big? Wipes. Diapers. Extra outfit. Snackies. Do I really need all this stuff when Olive is not with me? Ah forget the Ipod. I’m gonna be late. NPR it is. Mirror check. Why do my sunglasses make me look like a small chipmunk w/ big eyes. That’s not the look I’m going for. Dress may be too short. W/ boots I look a bit like I’m going to a party & not to a depressing blue office w/ no windows. Can you see my underwear? That’s ok. It’s maternity underwear. If you cop a look you deserve what you get. Scarf. Yeah. I’m entirely too trendy for someone to genuinely like me. Hate that. I need more girlfriends. What the hell is on NPR? Is this what I want to listen to to start my Friday? Fuck no. Okay. Another station. I don’t know what they are saying but it sounds like a rap song. Lovely. Bobbing my head like a rap star’s girlfriend. I’m a bad ass. Cellphone. Ringing. Yes. Mother. Yes. Confession this Saturday. First Communion on Sunday. Yes. I have dresses for the girls. Yes, the boy has a dress shirt. Yes, I will iron it. Yes we’ll have lunch on Sunday. Yes we have plans tomorrow. Yes I will call the nun. Yes mother. Yes mother. Yes mother. Damn. I forgot my belt.
End stream.

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