Living On The Treadmill

Life. Not the treadmill at the gym. Not the the treadmill in your bedroom, that you use as a coat rack. It's those days that seem like you're running in place. Round and round you go, where you stop nobody knows.

Nobody knows alright. Today began just like any other day...almost any other day. My husband off to work, the kids sleeping, dogs and cats snoozing too. I heard my alarm and slowly rolled out of bed. First stop...my cup of coffee.

Downstairs, I prepared for that peaceful Maxwell House moment. You know the commercial...sitting in the big cozy chair looking out the window at the sunrise, pondering life while slowly sipping from an over-sized mug and smiling. Then I woke up! My coffee, from the Keurig, takes great concentration with no K-cups. Some mornings those K-cups are the equivalent of a butler bringing me coffee on a tray. 

I pour the Starbucks Morning Jo into the Keurig. The water heats up. I hear the hum. I have my coffee with the perfect splash of milk. Just the right color. I test to make sure it's just right. The temperature must be perfect. Like Goldilocks, I like it not too hot, not too cold, but just right. Heaven. I sip. I put down my big blue mug on the counter, glance at the microwave clock. Time to wake the kids. Their alarm clocks have done less than alarm them. Who invented the snooze button anyway?

Upstairs, I knock on door number one. Good morning. Back downstairs. My coffee is lukewarm. Into the microwave it goes. Beeeep. Like magic, Goldilocks is back in business.

Lunch. I hunt and gather until the lunch is bagged. All set to go. I pour my hot coffee into a travel mug, walk out the door, get into the car with my passenger, and drive off to school. Goodbye and I love you and yes, I will drop off your sports bag in the sports shed around the corner. Yes, today I am buying you a hero for the sports bus. I will drop it off. Shed. Later. I love you.

Home. I knock on door number two. The words from under the comforter suggest there is a body and the stirring suggests it will come to life. Downstairs. Coffee. It's cold now. Repeat. Microwave beeeeep. Ahhhhh. Sip. Repeat. Hunt. Gather. Lunch. Out to the car. Drive passenger plus one dog off to school. Yes, I will drop the sports bag at the shed...around the corner. I love you.

Home. Coffee. It's cold now. Repeat. Microwave beeeeep. Ahhhhh. Sip. Repeat. Meow. Put mug on counter. Check cat food. Bowl empty. Cat food bin looks empty. 

Home. Sunshine. Blue skies. I have to go to the store for cat food and food for the sports bus. Better not mix them up. First, I walk the dogs for an hour. I have all day free to take care of everything. It's just me until six. Walking, I create a schedule for my day.

Grocery store. Cat food. Check. Kid food. Check. Pouring rain. I'm soaked. Wait to drop off kid food. Will kid food be necessary? Sport may be cancelled?  Feed cats. Notice cat food bin had plenty for now. 

Home. Still pouring. Repeat steps for coffee. Sip from mug. Sit down. Maxwell House moment. Ahhhh. No rush. It's raining. No sport.

As I sip, the skies clear a bit and leaves me in a quandary. Sunshine. Sports?  Kid text. Sport is on. Food needed. Drive to school shed with food. Send text to confirm no one will go hungry. Thank you. I love you. Drive home.

Home. Coffee cold. Repeat steps for coffee. Sip from mug. Start from beginning. I wonder why I never get anything done? No wonder why it seems like I drink so much coffee. It's the same cup....over and over. Wait. I'm getting a text. The bus is almost at the high school. Gotta go now. I put down the mug on the counter....