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A Woman's Journal


We Have a Dream

By Maggie Turner

November 26, 1999

We Have a Dream

Another day has gone by and I don't know what happened to it. It's desperate, I can't think of single thing I did today! Well, at least not without sitting quietly and thinking. That's what I'm doing right now.

Yes, yes, it is coming back to me. Bills, yes, there were bills. I paid two bills. I did that. I opened an Excel file and updated the budget. Yes. I worried about money, yes, yes; I worried about money today. How long could that have taken? The worrying part is very time consuming.

Lets see, what else? Ah, I baked today! I baked for hours and hours and didn't burn anything. Friends moved recently and we inherited some bananas, apples, peppers and tomatoes. These items were threatening to self-destruct soon so I decided on a bakeathon. I made Scottish oatcakes, banana nut loaf, and an upside down apple cake. And as if that wasn't enough I then whipped up a tomato pepper rice concoction to be thrown in the crockpot in the morning. Then Attila came home and used up our reservoir of leftover bread crusts to make outrageously good croutons. Then we started to eat!

If you think you've just met the most boring people in the world, let me confirm your impression. We have a dream. I believe it is shared by millions of adults sharing a home with a human teenager. We dream about towels, clean towels stacked neatly in closets, hanging handily on towel racks near sinks and tubs. It is a wonderful dream. In reality our towels have escaped, with the help of an unidentified accomplice, to the dark regions under "The Teenager's" bed, inside "The Teenager's" closet and layered wet and moldy with "The Teenager's" homework.

When we sleep visions of sheets and blankets, cutlery and cups dance through our heads. We buy them, we wash them, we dry them and we put them away. But here is the best part of our dream, when we go to the cupboard it is not bare. Our cutlery and our cups are still there, waiting for us on the shelves! Our sheets and our blankets lie sleeping in dark closets, fresh for the taking. How can we dream bigger dreams when there are no clean forks to eat our Kraft Dinner?

The hour is late and I'm off to my bed, to sleep, perhaps to dream.


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