There was a gap in the rose bushes. Sandi was aware of it, but she really didn't care anymore. She had spent the first five years of her marriage pruning the damn things, and she was sick of it. So one plant died of rot? Good riddance. She sat on her patio, staring through the hole in the wall of annuals, sipping a coffee with far more Irish Mist than she should have added this early in the morning, and dared the rest of the flowers to wilt before her eyes.
She sipped again. Really, this was more than enough liqueur for a single cup of coffee. Another gulp. Just too much.
As far as she could tell, she finished the cup of coffee/booze around ten. Dan wouldn't be back until six or later. There was the thesis, but Sandi hadn't read a peer-reviewed journal in two months. Hadn't sat at her computer in almost twice that. She'd even glanced at a copy of People in the checkout line last week. And sex? When masturbation's lost it's fun, you're fucking...something.
She giggled a little. The bottle of Irish Mist was sitting on the counter. Another cup of coffee? However, the pot was empty, and it would take five minutes to make another one. Straight Mist it was. She half filled her coffee cup with the liqueur. Here's to you Billie Joe, she thought and took a stiff sip.
"Cough! Ugh." Wow, had she ever drank schnapps straight? When was the last time she'd had actual booze?
The second half cup of alcohol bought her another half an hour. Now I'm done for the day, she thought. Don't want Dan to come home and find me passed out naked on the living room floor with a running vacuum in my hand after a drunken attempt to unpack and clean. She glanced in the pantry, and looked over the stacks of moving boxes still marked with what she was fairly certain was labels from the previous move.
A notice on the dining room table caught her eye as she was pondering whether to unpack or start a fire. She picked it up, and took a sip of the second cup of Irish Mist. God, the home owner's association, she thought as she rolled her eyes. Bunch of bored housewives.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the dining room mirror.
"Fuck you, I'm not that far gone," she said to the empty house.
She sipped again. Really, this was more than enough liqueur for a single cup of coffee. Another gulp. Just too much.
As far as she could tell, she finished the cup of coffee/booze around ten. Dan wouldn't be back until six or later. There was the thesis, but Sandi hadn't read a peer-reviewed journal in two months. Hadn't sat at her computer in almost twice that. She'd even glanced at a copy of People in the checkout line last week. And sex? When masturbation's lost it's fun, you're fucking...something.
She giggled a little. The bottle of Irish Mist was sitting on the counter. Another cup of coffee? However, the pot was empty, and it would take five minutes to make another one. Straight Mist it was. She half filled her coffee cup with the liqueur. Here's to you Billie Joe, she thought and took a stiff sip.
"Cough! Ugh." Wow, had she ever drank schnapps straight? When was the last time she'd had actual booze?
The second half cup of alcohol bought her another half an hour. Now I'm done for the day, she thought. Don't want Dan to come home and find me passed out naked on the living room floor with a running vacuum in my hand after a drunken attempt to unpack and clean. She glanced in the pantry, and looked over the stacks of moving boxes still marked with what she was fairly certain was labels from the previous move.
A notice on the dining room table caught her eye as she was pondering whether to unpack or start a fire. She picked it up, and took a sip of the second cup of Irish Mist. God, the home owner's association, she thought as she rolled her eyes. Bunch of bored housewives.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the dining room mirror.
"Fuck you, I'm not that far gone," she said to the empty house.
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