If You Give a Woman an Hour
Inspired by a busy hour one Monday morning and the book by Laura Numeroff, “If you give a mouse a cookie.”
It’s Monday morning at 8:05. Libby is safely on the bus and on her way to school.
I walk back down the driveway and through the door. I see a lukewarm cup of coffee sitting there. Normally I drink it at the bus stop, but today I set it down and forgot all about it.
I remember that when I was getting dressed this morning, I forgot to put deodorant on. My deodorant is in the car because I had an event last night where I changed at my sister’s house.
I go out to the car.
Sitting on the front seat is an empty Reactine blister pack. It reminds me that I need to put Reactine in the car again. I keep Reactine in the car for Frank & Libby who have seasonal allergies, and for me when I visit cat houses. My sister has a cat. Yesterday I took the last tablet.
I also need hand cream (unrelated) and a fresh box of Kleenex (thank you, cat) for my car.
I grab the empty blister pack and head back inside.
When I get to the cupboard where the Reactine is, I see the dog’s tick medicine. Once a month, we give her a “treat” that protects her from ticks. I put a little check mark on the box so I know which month I’ve given it to her, and I always try to give it to her on the last day of the month.
July and August aren’t checked, but the empty blisters are in there, so I know Libby has given them to Rosie. And clearly the empty blisters belong back in the box. Not in the garbage.
I take out the September dose, hold it in my hand. I head to the laundry room where I find Kleenex but no travel sized hand cream. I head to the washroom where we keep the travel supplies, I find a box of recyclables that need to go to the garage, restock the toothpaste, give myself a new toothbrush, take the empty shampoo bottle from the shower, and find a bottle of hand cream, not my favourite brand, but it will work. I head back to the car. It’s recently been detailed, so it’s clean, but messy!
I open the garage door because there’s lots of recycling and a little bit of garbage—tissues from the cat. I tidy up my car, get it looking the way I like it, carry my bag of clothes from last night into the house, set the bag down, and see my normal Monday morning frog is there:
The dishes.
A frog is the job you least want to do… but over the weekend, I swallowed a big frog by cleaning my basement, so today the dishes frog seems easy. I don’t have time to do dishes – but I do have time to throw whatever will fit into the dishwasher and press start. As I’m filling it, I think about how everyone always says I have the best kids. Maybe if they saw how little dishes they do, they would think otherwise. The dishes don’t all fit. Not surprising. I’ll empty it and start again at lunchtime.
I go back to my room to put away my clothes, and I see an empty clothes basket calling for a load of dirty laundry. I fill up the basket or put deodorant on, and notice that I’m not wearing earrings – I’ve got in the habit of wearing the plain gold ones from Charlie and Allie – they match every outfit and are waterproof – which came in handy for all my swimming this summer. Maybe I’ll get back to my big fancy earrings soon? Earnings on, I take the load of laundry to the washing machine.
Back in the kitchen, with my now cold coffee, I notice the two empty July and August tick medicine blisters and think: “I didn’t give it to Rosie, what did I do with it?”
I walk back out to the garage, dig through the garbage, find it, call Rosie in, and give her what she thinks is a treat.
Back in the kitchen, I wash my hands. Thank god I remember that I just picked through the garage gabage! I notice the newspaper at the island.
I haven’t sat and read the newspaper for a while, so I sit and read. There’s lots about local politics and a few tragic stories in our town. I also read a story from 1912 about infanticide, which is alarming, and in this case it was the father of the baby who was charged with murder, and sentenced to two years in the Kingston Penitentiary. The mother was found not guilty.
By now, it’s getting close to nine o’clock, and I head into my office for Writing Circle.
I can’t remember where I put down my coffee, but I make myself a nice hot cup of tea and fill up my water bottle.
My desk is a complete disaster.
Over the weekend, I posted a reel about my basement frog, maybe I’ll do the same for my office? I take a quick 5 second video of my desk! (I wonder where my kids get it from?). I start tidying. There’s lots of recycling, the evidence from building oracle deck boxes and the elastics that come from the printer to bind the two packs together.
I gasp. 9:01.
I’m late for my own Writing Circle.
I’m so grateful that this hour is over, where I have done a million things and nothing, all at the same time.
That’s what happens when you give a woman an hour.