I’m not entirely sure where I’d go. Really, running away would first require me to actually find my running shoes (I work out in bare feet) because there is way too much trash and probably cholera outside my door to just let my feet go bare. However, the thickness of the callouses on my feet would probably save me. I really need a pedicure. Anyway, if I could run away today, I’d probably run all the way to the capitol and somehow convince all of the armed guards at the Serena Hotel to let me in so I could get one of those awesome lemon zest facials. It’s been years since I’ve been there, so I hope the spa is actually still running. This could be one seriously disappointing run-away if I ran the whole way only to find that the spa is out of commission. After the facial, I’d see if they could squeeze me in for a pedicure and grind off all the nastiness on the soles of my feet. Once that’s over and my feet are shaped into feet again, I would mozy on over to their awesome little bakery where they sell those beautiful french pastries that taste just as good as they look. I would eat probably 2 or 3 of them, because they were always only like a dollar each. Hey, I just dropped like $200 on my spa bill, so I’ve gotta be a financially responsible adult now. I know, I know, I just left my husband and toddler daughter by themselves without notice so I could have a fantasy run-away to a swanky hotel… I’m probably not what you’d consider a responsible adult right now. Oh, and I’d get the Twinings strawberry mango tea, too… which was always stupidly overpriced. The Serena knows a lady’s weakness. Then, I’d drop another $250 on a hotel room. I would go up and sit in the perfectly clean tub in the lavender scented bathroom for as long as the water would stay hot. After all, my legs are probably pretty sore from that run from River City, which went from sea level to more than 5000 feet and was something like 90 miles long (in this run-away fantasy, I’m also in Kenyan olympian runner shape). By this point, I should probably call Levi and let him know I’m just having a short, imaginary overnight by myself and that I wasn’t kidnapped by the Taliban or Al Qaeda. He’ll be relieved.
I really do love my life here, but I can’t lie to you and say that every day is rosy posy perfect. I have some pull-my-hair-out frustrating days. Days when my patience is down to dental floss-width… and then that very realization reminds me that I forgot to brush Laila’s teeth today. Days when I find myself yelling at my kid several decibels louder than the situation really calls for. Days when the toot tree outside is making a huge mess and everyone is dragging those stupid little purple berries in on their shoes. But that’s ok because the ants will just come inside and eat all of the remnants. Yes, ants… all over my hallway. Ants mixed in with the purple rug stains.
But, pretty soon, my neighbor will call out over our compound wall “Laila’s mom! Are you there?! Come chat!” I love that part of my day. People like her are the reason I love living here. Levi will come home from work and I’ll be able to retreat to the kitchen for solitude and a cup of PG Tips, and I’ll gain back a little bit of the part of my mind that I lost this morning. He’ll give me a back rub and a hug, and the world will be right again.
Don’t pity me. This is just me having one of those days. Tomorrow will be better. It always is. Unless I said that yesterday…