TV Therapy

I didn’t step out of my house all day long. Can’t remember the last time that happened. No make-up. No curling iron. Me à la naturelle. Hopefully, I didn’t scare my sons’ friends too badly this evening as they gathered here before going out. Oh, who cares?

What if “Who Cares?” were our mantra, ladies? I think I’d be happier. How about you?

I had but a few claims to fame today. I made dinner for no one. That sounds like I didn’t make dinner. I made dinner. For no one. Just me. No one was here. I knew it ahead of time, but I was hungry. Tuna Helper it was. Such a culinary masterpiece. I washed dishes and baked chicken for tomorrow. And I defrosted ground beef. Oh the exciting life I lead! However, my washer never stopped for 10 hours. Believe it or not, I do count the laundry as a major accomplishment. There was just so much of it.

By and large, I enjoyed a peaceful day (minus the blow-up and poison pen letter to my dear darlings). Ah the joys of motherhood. And at night all the men were gone. Do you comprehend the significance of that last statement? All the men were gone. Hip Hip Hooray! So I enjoyed all remaining recorded episodes of Being Erica and Gilmore Girls, culminating with the grand finale of the second season's premiere of Being Erica.

At one point in my night I sat at the computer thinking I really should be doing something constructive. “But what should it be?” I asked myself. Myself had no reasonable reply. I was chilly and beginning to think too much, which is a familiar trap of mine. Time to say, “Who cares?” When do I ever get the living room all to myself? Never.

I quickly abandoned the computer, cuddled under the afghan, and soaked in the wise words of Dr. Tom and Lorelai. I’m good to go for another day. TV therapy. Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.