The next morning I woke up and winced, my muscles feeling like a guitar string that had been wound far too tight. Since I had already planted everything that we had bought the day before, I decided that today would be a lazy day. I yawned and tried to climb out of bed, cringing at every movement as I made my way into the bathroom. I rummaged around in the bottom of my vanity looking for my bottle of vanilla and pumpkin pie scented bubble bath. After starting up the water and pouring in far more bubble bath solution then necessary, I walked back into my room and over to my over flowing bookshelf. I tried to find the cheesiest sappiest romance novel that I could, preferably one that I hadn’t read yet. But seeing as at least once a week I treat myself to a long bubble bath with a cheesy sappy romance novel that was hard to do. I finally found one crammed in behind some old school books that I hadn’t bothered to return the year before.
I went back to the bathroom and undressed as painlessly as possible, and attempted to slide into the large jetted bathtub. Halfway in, I caught a cramp in my thigh. Being caught off guard by the sudden shock of pain, I reached down to grip my leg, and in turn letting go of the side of the tub. I ended up face first in the hot water, and with a mouthful of soapy bubbles. I shot back up out of the water sputtering, and trying to shake out the cramp in my leg, which caused a vanilla and pumpkin scented tidal wave to slosh over the side of the tub and deposit itself onto the tiled floor. After a few seconds of thrashing about I was able to get the cramp out of my leg. I caught my reflection on the mirror and burst out laughing. I looked like a mad woman, my hair hung damp and limp across my face that was beet red from the heat of the water and from trying not to cry out in pain and wake the rest of the house; there were still bubble around the corners of my mouth from the face plant that I had done not a few minutes before.
I started the water back up again, to replace some of the water that has splashed out in my struggle. I repositioned my suction-cup neck pillow, turn off the water, settled down and started reading. I must have relaxed a little too much, because the next thing I knew I woke up shivering, my book floating in the cold, bubble-less water. I looked forlornly at my now ruined book. I must not have gotten far past the first couple of pages because I didn’t remember much of it.
I clamored out and wrapped myself in a big fluffy towel, and shuffled into my room. I peeked at the clock and seen that it had only been about an hour. I dried off, and pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt that had my high school logo across the front. When I got to the kitchen Theresa was stirring something over the stove
“Hey mom” I greeted her, strolling into the kitchen
“Hey love.” She replied, her back still turned to me. When she turned around she raised her eyebrows at me. “You DO realize that you are dripping all over my nice hardwood floor right?” she asked a slight smile on her face
“Oh come ON! Really?” I looked at her in disbelief, and then I saw the glint of humor behind her eyes and stuck my tongue out at her. “You’re such a loser” I joked, lightly elbowing her. But I knew even if she was joking, part of her was serious. I waked across the kitchen to the counter that the mail basket was on, opened the end drawer and had to bite my bottom lip in an effort not to laugh. Most people have a junk drawer that looks like, well-junk. Not my mom. Theresa had organized it with one of those wire silverware organizers. Everything was perfectly in its place from ink pens to push pins. Before the kitchen had been re-done, this had been the death trap drawer. I just stared in awe, before remembering what I had opened the drawer to look for anyway. Of course I found them, a group of hair ties nicely held together by a mini hair clip, lying next to a group of elastic headbands. I unclipped a hair tie and grabbed a headband. I hip-checked the drawer closed as I raked my finger through my hair, slipping it up into a high ponytail. The smell of whatever my mom was cooking pulled me back across the kitchen. Slipping my headband in place I lifted top of one of the many pots on the island stove top. I saw chunks of chicken and various vegetables tossing in the rapidly boiling liquid. The smell of all the ingredients made my mouth water, and my stomach rumble.
