Thursday, September 10, 2015

It's such a perfect day

A perfect day - anything goes - no boundaries

My day begins the usual way.  I drag my slovenly ass out of the bed (the alarm begins alarming at 5:30am and I wake, turn on the news, hit snooze until 6:00ish) and clomp to the potty where I spend 15-20 minutes performing my a.m. constitutional (aka - on the Facebook).  I jump (crawl) off the throne because I realize I wasted 20 minutes being a dick-around.  I gracefully complete my morning stretch and all the muscles in my body react - poorly.  I shower, ignoring the screaming pain from my parts.  I stand in the shower, letting the hot water attempt to relieve my aches and pains until I realize, once again, that I'm a dick-around.  I've been in the shower for 10 minutes and I haven't thought about soap.  I rush to half-ass wash my parts paying close attention to the stinky region (I have standards), wash, condition, and haul my soaking wet ass back to my room and lunge for the caffeine.  I sit, nude, with a towel wrapped around my head and ingest the much needed caffeine & take my much needed meds.  I take the towel off my head, wrap it (barely) around my ample business, and plop into my 12almost13 year old daughter's room for the first of many morning visits.  I turn off her nightlight, make sure the t.v. is off, and turn on her overhead light.  I do something horrible like rip a huge fart, squeeze her cheeks, or jab my finger into her closed eye while chanting "poke, poke, poke" to give her a little wake-up boost.  I'm a gem.  I flap back to my room to smear on the war-paint and do up the hair.  I head back to the kid's room where both of her alarms are blaring; one beeping and one playing music.  She's sound asleep.  She acknowledges me with "5 more minutes" and I pound the snooze on one of the screaming alarms.  I hit the kitchen to throw lunch together for the kid, and conjure up something for us to jam in our face-holes for the a.m. meal.  During this portion of my morning routine, the kid enters using the zombie walk, eyes half closed, arms out, and stomp-y.  She snags my breakfast offering, and heads to the family room to fuck with the cat.  I get dressed, get all my work shit gathered, and brush my teeth.  I check on the kid's progress  (still fucking with the cat), and help her out by screeching: "hurry up, brush your teeth, hurry up, shoes & socks, shoes & socks, brush your hair, is all your homework in your backpack, hurry up, brush your teeth, hurry up".  I know this helps because she is screaming back at me but moving her ass all the while.  I head for the car, and get myself settled with a few moments of quiet before the morning drive to school.  School for the kid is .4 miles from our house.  It takes approximately 20 minutes door to door to sit in the drop-off line.  The school is .4 miles from our house.  It takes the kid 7-10 minutes to walk.   The kid slams her whole body and her 40+lb backpack into the car, and the talking begins: "So this boy made me laugh, why is bacon red, I almost peed my pants yesterday, baaaaa, pewtiepie is so funny, we should get a dog, I want a dog, the boy's name was Freddy, what's for dinner" and so on...until she bolts from the car without so much as a goodbye.  

Every second of that shit is gonna make my perfect day, perfect.

I will do what I dream of doing almost every morning while I drive to work.  I will go and I will do - anything I want.  Because I can.

I head to the beach, alone.  To not think.  To relax, to listen.  I hop of out of my car with zero aches and pains.  I effortlessly set up my umbrella, chair, towel, and cooler in the perfect spot.  The spot where the water reaches my toes, the breeze is consistent, and the view is breathtaking.  I yank off my beach cover-up, giving absolutely no fucks about what my fellow beach goers think about my fat rolls, pasty white skin, or the jiggly-ness that is me.  I lay in the sun with headphones in my ears, a book in my hand, and an amazon-sized, fruity umbrella drink that was just delivered to me.  Delivered.  I sit for hours.  I totally fry the fuck out of myself.  I am totally red.  hot.  

I see a couple of hobos while leaving the beach.  I give them each a $50 and a Fireball mini (because its my fucking day and I can)

I meet friends for food & drinks at a restaurant on the water in a nearby town.  I'm wearing the perfect dress to compliment my lobster complexion.  I have heels on my feet
(I can wear them without the usual searing pain).  I bounce into the restaurant.  We eat, have grown-up drinks, and we dance.  I dance.  For hours.  In heels.  With no pain.  I dance with wild abandon.  I forget how I think this isn’t cool; I let go.  I embrace my inner fool and I laugh - and laugh.   I'm not performing.  I am not "on".  I'm just me. I’m free.  I feel, ahem, giddy.  It feels good.  I feel good.  Friends.  

I come home and whip up dinner for the family.  The kid scarfs what I make.  We chat about the day - school, friends, homework, etc...  After dinner, we walk a couple of miles around the park. My feet don't hurt.  I'm not out of breath.  The kid showers without argument and she washes. She says thank you and tells me she loves me.   We eat chocolate and head to bed.

I slip into a magnificent, non-scratchy, nightie that makes me feel glorious.  I slide into freshly washed sheets, turn on a great show, and get ready to sleep without assistance from OTC sleep-aids.  As my eyes close, I feel hot breath on my neck.  He's come to hump me and he's my best friend in the entire world.  I forget my cottage cheese ass, my untidy pube-age, and the fact that my mouth tastes like a day old egg-salad sandwich.  I forget my wrinkles and my saggy milk bags and  I let go.  I have hot, dirty sex.  Sex that should make me blush but it's dark and I don't give a damn.  After, there is kissing, some hugs, and more kissing.  He watches me fall asleep, and then he leaves.  He texts me from the car, "I miss you already, talk to you in a few hours".  I read it, then sleep.  I'm smiling. Even though my vagina feels ripped in half when I wake, the rest of my parts made it out unscathed.

I smile because my day is not ending.  It has no boundaries.   

I smile and I begin again.  

PPB aka The Precious Princess - The Princess is a twice divorced, recently single, self-proclaimed member of the mentally hilarious. She has been referred to as living under a rock stocked with vodka and anger. Her 12 year old “Mini”, who is carbon copy of the Princess, is often the subject of blogs, and Facebook posts. In addition, she writes about dating, the dumbness of boys, life after 40, and shares stories from Bananaland which is both her past and current residence. She is the owner/sole admin for the Facebook page Precious Princess's Guide to Bananaland where she is famous for her rants and her blunt, honest, and sarcastic look at life. She blogs both extremely funny and all-the-feels posts at Princess Bananaland. She hates people, kids, and karaoke. She uses all the swears and makes up dirty words. Eventually when she’s done being sloth-like, she will write a book.  Until she changes her mind. Be afraid. 


Jeanine said...

Wahoo now this is day to celebrate over and over again! 😃

Anonymous said...

I remember those days...