With the girls heading to Florida with The Dad for a week, I have given some thought to being alone. Alone as in having an empty house and no one to take care of but myself. No schedule to follow, crisises to deal with. Being the only one my cooking needs to please and having all the power over my schedule. I haven’t been this kind of alone since January of 2008. Pre- Hope. A lifetime ago.
I was apprehensive about being alone, but ready. Outside of my weekly appointments, I scheduled nothing for this week. I was ready.
I momentarily forgot God has a sense of humor and the override button on my life. Last night I awoke to strange noises downstairs. First thought was to check on the cats. I had one on either side of me and neither of them cared enough about the noise to bother lifting their heads. The noise continued and I went down to check it out. The dog had pulled her cable out of the wall and trashed the kitchen. She ate the cat food, tore the litter box apart, and shredded the table cloth on the dining room table. The girls Easter projects were scattered.
I was too angry to deal with the dog, so I went to put her outside while I cleaned up. When I flipped on the outside light switch and opened the French doors, I forgot about the dog and the mess. It was snowing. For a second, I could have sworn I heard God laughing.
I had forgotten that no one is ever really alone. Not even me.