SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

Exploding leftovers

It wasn't supposed to be my morning to get up early. But they left the door open to the bedroom, and the noises of children getting ready for school and the sounds and smells of breakfast being made woke me up.

I groggily hoisted myself out of bed, back stiff and shoulder still stinging from my physical therapy session yesterday. Once I'm awake, I decide it would be nice to spend time with the family. I bring down my iPad and sit at the table quietly, checking on the weather and this website. No one really acknowledges me until my wife starts cleaning out the fridge.

I was supposed to throw out spoiling food last week, but with my poor eyesight it is so discouraging to scrounge around and find all of the things that need removing. Now she was doing my job and showing me things should've been taken care of, including a container of moldy chicken that probably has salmonella.

Next thing I know, she's ranting that it was now all over the cabinets, ceiling and floor. The cats are trying to lick it up. I offer little help because I am still in a daze. This further invokes her ire. She says she should be at work. I think I should still be in bed. (Note to self: Exploding leftovers--must discover more and perhaps write a poem)

She turns into Nietzsche's super woman, if I can borrow that psychology term loosely. I respect her greatly, except when it comes to her powers of empathy, which she lacks. I guess I'm just a henpecked husband. I sometimes get the spine stand up to her, but I don't like to do it in front of the kids. Meanwhile, she always points out my flaws and faults in front of them and sometimes they act like my parent.

So, I take the backseat, step in when I'm needed, and the rest of the time just take a lot of mental abuse. Now I just need to finish my coffee so I can get to the chores of the day. I know she will be smiling and happy when all is done.

I thought this was going to be a humorous post. Maybe, I just need more coffee and possibly some Vicodin.

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Just over an hour later and she's hollering for me from the basement. She needs me to bring her pair of slip-on shoes. Muttering under her breath, I see her standing over a broken light fixture that fell when she was trying to clean the basement pantry. The cats are in the mix again as she needs a broom to clean up on the floor. What is it with her and exploding objects?

I want to get my physical therapist prescribed home workout routine over with, but I can't relax with all her busy-ness. She's all over the house and in the places where I need to go and be at one with my brain. I want to stretch, I want to meditate and I wish I could take my meds but I know I should not.

Now she has discovered that a jug of water was cracked and leaking, seeping through the boxed foods on the lower shelf. She says 'this must be God's way of saying I need to clean today.' And also, she said, 'you're lucky I'm not a crier' like her mother. I told her I would prefer the crier right now. Then, she enters the closet to get out the vacuum parts and the contents of an Easter basket falls on her and onto the floor from the top shelf.

I am snickering behind her back. She says she knows that she will be able to laugh about this later. She'll be texting someone something humorous later. For now, I must bear the brunt of her agony. Just hate that she thinks it's okay to make others feel like sh*t when she is having a bad day.

I