Complaints

            I’m getting tired of her.

            She sleeps a lot and leaves dirty dishes in the sink.  She wastes lots of time on silly YouTube videos.  She forgets to plug in the Chrome book and spills crumbs on the couch.  Her tossed Kleenex don’t always land in the wastebasket.  She spent two days in her jammies, and one day she didn’t even wash her hair.

She was extremely annoying before she realized she was sick with something or another, all that moaning and groaning about the pain.  Naturally, she did not realize she needed to see a doctor until after business hours.  By then, she was reduced to lying on the couch muttering, “Oh God, oh God,” and wondering if she would become delirious from the fever.  Or maybe she had already been delirious the two sleepless nights before when she was chilled to the bone and never once considered she might be running a temperature.

            She started to get a little less tiresome when she finally picked up a book again.  She knew it was a good sign that she could concentrate to read rather than staring off into space.  After another day, she finally took care of those dirty dishes.  She realized that she was beginning to walk instead of shuffle and that the dizziness had subsided.  She tried her hand at a few simple household tasks.  But she wasn’t ready to do her taxes yet because her brain still felt more unreliable than usual.  She finally got so sick of reclining in the recliner that she walked into her messy office, sat in her office chair, and wrote these words:

          “I’m getting tired of her. . .”