Maintenance

Today is the third day in a row that Herself has not needed to feed, clothe, or otherwise maintain anyone except for herself.  She keeps the few possessions she brought with her nicely organized in the small room she is utilizing this week.  She has washed a couple of items in the sink and hung them to dry.  She forages for comestibles when she feels like eating.  She goes to bed when she feels tired.  She need not share the computer with anyone. She works without interruption. She entertains herself. There are no pets clamoring for food or barking at passers-by.  It is quiet.

It's extremely pleasant, this temporarily simplified lifestyle. 

Much as Herself enjoys looking after other people, there are times when it wearies her.  So much laundry. So many meals.  The cleaning. The reassuring.  The shopping. The consoling.  The transporting.  So many little things, tangible and intangible, that everyone seems to want.  It is exhausting, always trying to anticipate and facilitate the meeting of their needs. There are many times when she wishes that just for a day -- nay, for even an hour-- someone would look after her. 

Unexpectedly, she gets her wish:  she looks after Herself.