My muscles were aching, and my heart was pumping as I hit the locker room. I sat down on the bench in front of the lockers and had a drink of water. I was feeling pretty good, satisfied. All in all, not a bad workout.
“Took it kind of easy on the crunches and the ab machine, chubby,” a voice said.
“It’s here. It’s here,” Terri said, from the living room. “I just got the email.”
A moment later she was in the home office, carrying her laptop and wearing a smile. She sat down on the couch and pecked away at the keyboard.
“I’m so excited,” she said. “I can hardly wait.”
“Me too,” I said. “What is it I’m excited about?”
“Butch’s college admission application.”
“Butch is a—“
I was tooling around the internet marveling at how competitive the big retailers had become when Wilson ducked into my office.
“Got a second?” he asked.
“You just used it,” I said, puzzling over which online operation was worthy of my purchase.
Wilson sat down and said, “We need to talk about Stephens.”
I ignored the remark and was set to order from Target if I could confirm shipping was free.
It was late, after eleven when I heard giggling coming from the kitchen. Being the curious sort I went downstairs, tiptoeing through the hallway and stood just outside the entrance to the room and listened.
There was another burst of chuckles. It was Terri, and I immediately assumed she had a bit too much wine. I peered into the kitchen to see her at the table, watching something on her computer. She was smiling, the kind of smile you have when you’re having a nice, relaxing time.
It was a simple enough task and one I felt even I could handle. Head to the local paint store and pick up a gallon of white paint. Apparently Terri had spotted little areas of the downstairs powder room that needed touching up.
Generally speaking, any task that starts off as merely a “touching up” inevitably morphs into a multi-hour, possibly multi-day project. But this one seemed about as simple as it gets, and I had confidence I could knock it out and be home in plenty of time for a Saturday afternoon nap.
Asleep on the couch, a glorious Sunday afternoon nap to be followed by a socially-distant cookout at the Wald’s place a few blocks over. It doesn’t get a whole lot better, especially during the stress and strain of the pandemic.
I was drifting off into that nice in-between place just before the deep sleep kicks in when I heard a distant buzzing. Maybe a fly had slipped inside. It wasn’t exactly peak season for house flies, but whatever it was, it could wait. When I got up I would tackle the pest it if still insisted on visiting.