The Devil

I am waiting for paint to dry. I have been renovating this bed that my neighbor gave me that matches this old furniture in my daughter's room that I also renovated. I initially told the boys that they could help me, but it got a little out of hand when they both took paintbrushes and started just going at it and not paying attention to what they were doing. I got pretty fussy. Eraser Eater bounded across the house in a long yelp (he also got red paint on the carpet), and my oldest banished himself to the rocking chair in the office---letting me know how ticked he was. He told me that it was rotten that I would say he could help paint and then change my mind at the last minute. Oh how I wish that they could understand things immediately!

One of the worst things for me to do in the morning is drink more than one single cup of coffee. I feel jumpy and terrible the whole day---almost fatigued, almost wired. I never know what I need. This is how I feel right now. I just decided to let the boys watch TV so I can get this bed done. I have to get SOMETHING done today. I have called people a lot lately just so I could #1 keep in touch and #2 have something to tell Dear Sir when he gets home. I forget everything though. The other night he asked who I talked to during the day. I told him I talked to my friend Ann and he said, "You've been callin' the people, huh?"

"Actually, she called me," I said, feeling like a slacker.

Summer gets this way. I feel like the biggest bum. And I don't even get any books read. What do I do? I really don't know. I take care of kids, I guess and paint stuff.

But things will pile up once September hits. Mass chaos. I will have to try to command the three that will be against me. Dear Sir is worried because the oldest is finding joy in reading Arthur books. "Rachel, it's baby stuff. What is he doing?"

"I don't know," I say, "he is reading.. that is good."

"Not good if it is that stuff..."

"Hey, he reads text books..."

"But where is the literature? How about a reading list? He is supposed to be reading Foxe's Book of Martyrs."

"It goes over his head---he doesn't really get it. It is the old version."

"He's reading it. That's what he's doing. He is reading it. Come on, Rachel! Arthur?"

Yes, I have failed this summer. You know what it is? It is cable. It is all cable's fault. I have just received a revelation. Cable is the devil. It prevents every child in America from reading Foxe's Book of Martyrs and I have been blind to it.

I know, I know. It is all my fault. Just say it, won't ya?