“Stupid Day”~
By Laurel Lundberg
Joyce opens one sleep encrusted eye, rolls her head sideways and peeks at the clock. The bright red 7:34 seem to glare accusingly back at her, and for a moment the panic rises until she realizes its Saturday. “Aahhh” she stretches her arms up over her head and groans as she turns her still weary body over and pushes herself up slowly blinking the sleep from her eyes.
Mia, disturbed by the motion on the bed, stands up and shakes her head, then leaps to the floor, and, waving her long black tail as if to imply that the indignity of being so rudely awakened is too much to tolerate, saunters out of the room.
Joyce gets up and stumbles to the bathroom, sits down and reaches blindly for the toilet paper but her hand encounters only a nearly empty roll. She pulls the last 4 inches off the cardboard and looks at it distastefully. “Whaaa?!” She exhales noisily, “eeewwee.” The decorated basket next to the toilet is empty; she rolls her eyes around the room in disgust and they land on the hand towel hanging innocently by the sink, as if it could possibly be a stand in.
The kitchen is cold and the floor under her bare feet is crunchy with a reminder that the sweeping has been neglected. Joyce yawns widely as she fills the coffee pot and pours the water into the coffee maker, eagerly awaiting the rich eye-opening aroma about to waft from it. She opens the cupboard and stretches her hand to where the coffee filters should be, behind the white plastic sugar bin and finds nothing but the empty wrapper. “What the heck?” she asks the cupboard, frowning into it as though it would be held responsible for not alerting her to this fact.
Looking around the small kitchen with her brow furrowed and lower lip between her teeth, she spies the roll of paper towels. “Hmmm,” she speculates “well, I wonder if it’ll work?” She reaches out and pulls on the paper and, as if the cardboard roll in the bathroom is mocking her, she hears the familiar tear of the last sheet being ripped from it. “Ack” she grumbles, her frown deepening.
She folds the wrinkled towel as neatly as possible into a cone shape, maneuvers it carefully into the coffee basket, carefully scoops in coffee and presses the start button, leaving the lip open so she can watch the uncertain brewing process. After a few minutes the coffee maker begins to pop and steam, and the heated water to spew into the makeshift filter, dripping through to land successfully in the pot below. “Ah yes!” Joyce feels such triumph at her cleverness, her annoyance fades, and she wiggles her eyebrows in glee.
Opening the fridge, she surveys the interior in search of breakfast. She takes out the gray egg carton and butter dish and yanks at the top of the bread bag peeking out from behind the Tupperware holding leftovers of last nights chicken Alfredo, sets her food items down on the counter, then turns back to the fridge to grab the creamer for her now merrily perking coffee.
Her knees creak audibly, and her back groans as she bends to get a small frying pan from the bottom cupboard. She sets the pan on the stove, and lifts the lid on the egg carton. The solitary egg nestled in its cardboard bed looks slightly forlorn, and Joyce grunts as her dismay returns.
“Ugh-one egg.” She picks up the bread bag and holds it out in front of her face; “and one piece of toast.” She shakes her head in vexation as her stomach growls in protest at the meager offerings. Her mood is not improved when she checks back on her formerly happily brewing coffee to find the improvised filter has slumped over into a soggy pile inside the basket and the coffee in the pot below is a thick mixture of coffee grounds and water. “No, no, no!!” She scolds the coffee pot in irritation. She pours coffee into a cup and begins scooping the grounds out with a spoon and flicking them into the sink. “Sheesh!”
It occurs to her that maybe she should make a list all the things she has run out of before they disappear back into the black hole that used to be her memory. “Humph” she admonishes herself. “If you had a memory, you silly ninny, you probably wouldn’t be standing here trying to remember all the things you’re out of because you would have remembered to pick them up at the store yesterday! Come to think of it, if you had even half a brain, you wouldn’t be standing in this frigid kitchen in your bare feet and underpants talking to the coffee maker!”
Her paltry breakfast cooked and consumed; the lumpy coffee choked down, Joyce heads to the laundry room and sorts through the pile of clean clothes until she finds her jeans and favorite shirt; a bright floral button down poly-blend that is comfortable and cheerful, but more importantly, it still fits. Her underclothes dumped in an undignified heap and clean ones put on, she balances precariously against the dryer thinking she must look like an ancient spindle-legged crane as she drags the pant legs up slowly one at a time. She pulls the slightly wrinkled flowered blouse from the heap. “Oh yeah,” she recalls as she slides her arms into the sleeves; looks down for the buttons and is instead confronted with an unruly red sock that has attached itself to her shirtfront. “I was suppose to get dryer sheets too.” She rolls her head around in abject disbelief as she pulls the sock away with a crackle of static electricity.
Determined to get on with her day, she heads to the den and the previously procrastinated tax returns that will turn ugly albeit not actually deadly if she dallies much longer on getting them sent off.
With her blouse clinging to her with an aberrant friendliness, she sits down in front of the computer and turns it on, then reaches for the knob on her desk lamp and twists it. ZZWzzap!
The bulb flares like a camera flash and then goes dark. Joyce stares with wide eyed incredulity at it. “Ugh, of course, and I probably don’t have any more light bulbs either.” Heaving a loud sigh she plods down the hall to the closet that is overflowing with an overabundance of assorted miscellanea; no light bulbs. She returns to the den to search the desk drawers just in case, and although she does discover part of an uneaten Mars bar, no light bulbs there either.
“This is starting out to be a rather stupid day!” She exclaims loudly, nearly tripping over Mia, who has just wandered into the room; “jiminy and his crooked crickets!” she cries “you ignoramus little beast!” The cat deftly avoids her foot and springs up onto the window sill, looking to position her self for a better view of the day’s entertainment.
Undeterred nevertheless, Joyce quickly finishes her taxes, and clicks the print button. “Whew, one thing done anyway”, she says as the printer whirs to life, spits out 2 pages and stops suddenly; the red error light begins blinking. “Huh!?” Joyce squints down at the printer and realizes she is out of paper. “Un-be-lieve-able.”
Mumbling bad words with lips curled up into what is not a smile she trudges back to the bedroom, puts on her shoes and socks; slips on her jacket, picks up the car keys and grumpily slams the front door behind her. She hobbles slowly down the front steps and slides into the driver seat of her car, starts the engine and puts the car in gear.
As she pulls away from the curb, she glances down and notices the little yellow gas light glowing on the dash. “Perfect!” Joyce immediately decides she is going back to bed as soon as she gets home.
