...isn't feeling particularly saint-like at the moment.
In fact, after four days of family togetherness, she's feeling downright resentful.
Oh, most of the time I love working at home. I can choose what I work on, I can set my own schedule, I can spend time with the kids when they are home...
But...I also never get to leave my "place of employment." The grunge under the kitchen sink is right there, leering at me every time I open the cupboard. The dishes piled up next to the sink won't do themselves (have they ever?). The carpet is still trashed from the muddy dog parade yesterday when Little Mouse forgot to close the basement door and let them up before they'd had their foot-bath. The crew may all be on vacation, but they still need feeding, and there'll be hell to pay if they don't have clean underwear...well...the Barrister might not notice, but the rest of them certainly would.
And I dare not take a day off. Not really...
Mom! The vacuum cleaner ate my Silly Putty! Mom! I spilled glue on the dog! Mom! I can't find my favorite red shirt! Honey! This load of underwear all turned out pink...
No...other people get vacations.
I get the shivers just thinking about it.
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