Mid-Life Crisis, Six Months Early

Monday, April 30, 2007 at 05:00PM
Sherri Caldwell in Life at 40

I am so sad today, I can barely move.

Thank god for children, and routine -- forced to get out of bed, brush my teeth, get dressed, get everybody up and off to school and work. I stopped to pick up the critical groceries, to get through dinner tonight and another round of breakfasts and lunches tomorrow; laundry soap so I could start the week's laundry, 10 color-coded, fabric-separated piles lined up in the hall.

Thank goodness for these things that must be done, because when I finish, I start to wander around my small space and cry.

I can't concentrate. I can't focus on anything. I decide to soak in the tub, to escape within the lavender-scented bubbles ("Stress Relief: calms and relaxes...") and flickering candles.

Mocha is looking very concerned, staring at me over the rim of the bathtub with her big brown eyes. This is out of our ordinary routine for a Monday morning. After getting everybody up and out, we usually spend the rest of the day at (and near) my desk, on the computer. On a regular day, I open the balcony door, and she lays out on the cool concrete ten floors up, and watches the world go by on the street below until I am ready to take a break (or she lets me know she is), and we go for a walk. We visit with our friend the Concierge downstairs on our way out.

She's not quite sure what to think today. Her brown eyes seem worried. Or maybe she just wants my toast, which I've brought in with me, along with a cup of coffee.

I write in my notebook for an hour, holding it up carefully out of the water, until the water gets cold, and the bubbles have all melted away. I am still waiting for inspiration, for clarity.

I think this may be the beginning of a mid-life crisis.

Article originally appeared on The Rebel Housewife (http://www.rebelhousewife.com/).