She was lounging. In her room. Reading. Reading a few chapters. Of the young adult novel she heard about. Wanted to see for herself if the storyline was indeed intriguing.
Noticing the sun falling slowly down. Out of view. She wanted to make sure the house was locked up, lights off, before her evening ended. Before the kids retired to their rooms for the night.
The pile of clothes on the living room floor, at the feet of her child, bothered her. The empty five gallon water bottles near the front door, waiting for days now to be filled, by someone willing to drive to the local water machine, irked her. And the full of dishes sink threw her mood for a loop.
"Geez!" she started. "Why is it that I just can't get the help I need?" She eyeballed her two old enough kids. "I guess asking nice, even writing down what I want done, just doesn't work!" she began to yell. "I'm not the only one who lives here. We all need to contribute!"
Blah, Blah, Blah is probably all the kids heard.
She's sure of it.
She picked up the bottles and slammed out the front door. Sped off to fill them. Then returned home again. Still angry. One kid stood to help her as she stepped over the threshhold of the front door. "Don't bother," she snapped. "I can do it all, as usual." She plopped the water bottle onto the dispenser, splashing a bit of water onto the floor. The other bottle, she dropped onto a table, in the garage, as her other kid just stared at her. Not sure what to say.
She went to the kitchen to do the dishes. Clinking them into the dishwasher. Hard. Hoping she'd not break anything.
Yet, didn't care.
The clothes in the living room? She left alone. She was at a boiling point as she stormed back to her room. Slammed the door. Sprawled on the bed. She breathed deeply. Sighed. Then lay her head down. Sideways.
Feeling a bit calmer. A few hours later. She returned to the living room. To recheck the door locks. "Sorry, Mom," the kids tried. She just nodded. Tried to smile. Noticed the clothes had been discarded. Somewhere. Couch blankets folded.
"Goodnight," she mumbled, to herself.
She went back to her own room. To read another chapter. To sleep off her bad mood.
At the end of the day, she knows tomorrow will be another beginning.
(contribution for BFF prompt: at the end of the day)
Noticing the sun falling slowly down. Out of view. She wanted to make sure the house was locked up, lights off, before her evening ended. Before the kids retired to their rooms for the night.
The pile of clothes on the living room floor, at the feet of her child, bothered her. The empty five gallon water bottles near the front door, waiting for days now to be filled, by someone willing to drive to the local water machine, irked her. And the full of dishes sink threw her mood for a loop.

Blah, Blah, Blah is probably all the kids heard.
She's sure of it.
She picked up the bottles and slammed out the front door. Sped off to fill them. Then returned home again. Still angry. One kid stood to help her as she stepped over the threshhold of the front door. "Don't bother," she snapped. "I can do it all, as usual." She plopped the water bottle onto the dispenser, splashing a bit of water onto the floor. The other bottle, she dropped onto a table, in the garage, as her other kid just stared at her. Not sure what to say.
She went to the kitchen to do the dishes. Clinking them into the dishwasher. Hard. Hoping she'd not break anything.
Yet, didn't care.
The clothes in the living room? She left alone. She was at a boiling point as she stormed back to her room. Slammed the door. Sprawled on the bed. She breathed deeply. Sighed. Then lay her head down. Sideways.
Feeling a bit calmer. A few hours later. She returned to the living room. To recheck the door locks. "Sorry, Mom," the kids tried. She just nodded. Tried to smile. Noticed the clothes had been discarded. Somewhere. Couch blankets folded.
"Goodnight," she mumbled, to herself.
She went back to her own room. To read another chapter. To sleep off her bad mood.
At the end of the day, she knows tomorrow will be another beginning.
(contribution for BFF prompt: at the end of the day)