Thursday, May 3, 2012

Man Upstairs

I pulled the note off the door as I walked into the house. Stumbling, I dropped the two bags of groceries in an effort to catch myself. I could see the bright yellow yolks of the eggs on the floor and felt a dull throb in my thumb where it had bent back further than was customary. “Sarah!” I yelled as I salvaged the radishes and lettuce from under the chair. “Sarah! Come get your damn dog.” The darling little terror of a puppy was pulling playfully at the belt on my jacket. I reached under the couch and picked up the can of tomato paste. “Sar…”, My yell was interrupted by an unexpected tongue traveling across my lips and cheek.

Off my knees, I walked to the sliding glass door and let the puppy outside. I tried to remember why I agreed to her getting a puppy. Ahh! That’s right; it was a bad break-up with the guy she was dating once again. “Sarah?” I called again. The puppy yipped at the door. I turned around and grabbed the roll of paper towels off of the counter. The eggs still needed to be cleaned up.

Fifteen minutes later, the eggs were cleaned up, the bags were hanging on the hook, and the puppy was now jumping on the glass. I walked over to let the dog in and remembered the note. I found it under the same chair the radishes had been under.

                “Please watch Manny for me. I’m out with Eric! Don’t let him go downstairs! He’ll roll in the clean clothes and we’ll have to do them all over.”

I looked around and didn’t see Manny. I had a feeling Sarah hadn’t shut the door before she left and the clothes were already strewn all over the floor and probably stained. “Man, upstairs,” I called. “Come on Manny! Come upstairs!”

I had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.

*** Daily Writing Practice

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