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Look at him, with his stupid grin. I bet he’s never had to worry about the late-night pee rule. Someone didn’t go to enough sleepovers as a kid.
“You’re sure this is a thing?”
“Itisa thing.” I’m never living this down. “Haven’t you ever had to worry about waking people in the middle of the night? What am I talking about? Of course you haven’t. You probably sleep a perfect nine hours and have sweet dreams of baby seals. Well. I was taught to be polite. I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. If you wake up, it’s your own damn problem.” I stalk back to my room. Stupid small bladder. I shouldn’t have brought it up. At least slamming my door made me feel better.
“You left your coffee on the counter!”
Today could not get any worse.
There’s a box marked with a purple star stuffed under my desk. I know what’s in there. It’s the entire reason I’m here. But I haven’t opened it yet.
This shouldn’t be so impossible. I’m an adult. I’ve been an adult for years now. I book all my own appointments and frequently hold conversations with other people. Granted, it’s because the focus is never on me, but hey, facts are facts.
Thisshouldn’tbe impossible.
It only feels that way.
And that’s the problem.
Every time I look at that lavender mark, I think about everything that could go wrong.
Then again, maybe the draft isn’t as bad as I remember.
Sure, and Morgan’s favorite drink is a virgin martini.
Sighing, I drag the box out. I can do this. I’ve tried all kinds of things before. Like the time I rappelled down the side of a ten-story building for charity (and a story). Or when I attended the over sixties women’s group that did naked abstract painting on Thursdays (there was no reason to be naked. They just liked the freedom and were badasses). Or goat yoga.
None of it was demanded of me, but I did it anyway. Most of the people I met and wrote about had achieved wonderful, bold, creative things. And I don’t know. I wanted to experience a piece of that. So I did.
So why is this stumping me? The book that is supposed to bemygoal?
Maybe Sebastian could tell me.
I venture into the kitchen to find scissors. When I get there, I find my cold coffee has been emptied. Well, if I’m going to get started, caffeine is a nonnegotiable, so I set about adding a new filter to the pot and starting a fresh brew.
If I’m going to be standing here waiting, I might as well tidy up. Last night’s dishes are stacked and dried by the sink, so I start there, but it’s a quick job, and the sink looks like it could use a little TLC, so I stroll back to my room to get a pair of gloves and stainless-steel cleaner out of my supplies. Keeping them in my room is also a nonnegotiable.
I don’t even want to imagine the look on Sebastian’s face if he found out how many sprays I have.
It’s only as I walk into my room that I even remember the reason I left in the first place was for the scissors.
Damn.
But now that I’ve noticed the sink, I can’t let it go, and really, it’s barely a sixty-second job. It’s hardly going to derail me if I finish that first. Decision made.
With my favorite aloe gloves and my country pop playlist, it’s easy to filter out any thoughts of work and focus on the task at hand.
The sink leads to the stove, then the oven, then the counter tops. Then I figure I might as well give my desk a good wipe down, and once I spot a cobweb above the curtain rod, it’s lunchtime. My stomach is aching and my lower back is threatening to sue, so I decide now is the perfect time to take a break.
No one should work on an empty stomach, after all.
The way my parents tell it, I was late for everything.
Born late, late bloomer.
I used to joke that I was simply procrastinating, but the older I get, the less I think it’s a joke.
My parents were forty by the time I was born and definitely weren’t expecting me, but they loved me fiercely and gave me as much as they were able. Having older parents never bothered me, but it did mean that they were trying to reclaim their independence by the time I hitpuberty, and by then, Aiden had moved out for college, so I was essentially an only child.
