Grrrr

I'm at work. I don't want to be. I have to work all next week. I don't want to do that either. I know that most of the world works every day and I'm a big fat baby for whining about it, but I'm whining anyway because I want to. So there. Think there are enough "I"s in there? It is, after all, all about me. Everyone knows that, right? (Heads are nodding all over the globe and into the solar system.) If I missed anyone send them this link, 'k?

October 15--Zanzibar. Pamela felt like she was living in a dream. Once she had slept her way through the jet lag of flying from Chicago she thought about exploring but she lay in bed. The beach outside her thatched bungalow was narrow but it was just right, with the dark gray coral stone wall, the pale pink sand, and the light turquoise water. It'd go great with the swimsuits she'd brought. She even liked the pair of bright green lizards that seemed to live, love and hunt up in the thatch. A footstep on the tile patio outside her door roused her from her doze and a chambermaid in a colorful uniform came in with a tray laden with coffee, fruit, and rolls with jam. She smelled the rich coffee and felt her mouth begin to water. She could also taste how badly she needed to brush her teeth after her long sleep.

"and then I heard Father opening the front door." Sister Joseph Therese had sent me to the rectory to get a stack of hymnals for Confirmation class. When I knocked at the back door there was no answer. Sister had told me that Father Loefler and his housekeeper, Rose might be out so I should go right in. It felt wrong, like a sin, to go in but I was pretty sure Sister Joseph Therese wouldn't stand for any excuses and I could always go to Confession on Saturday, pray a Hail Mary or two, and wipe it off my soul. The rectory smelled kinda holy, like incense and lemons with flowers too, and the wood was all dark and shiny with thick rugs down the halls. I had to push my feet to get through the kitchen.

Time! Again I didn't get to the "main idea" I had for the prompt when it was time to quit. I think it's a symptom of my tendency to write a bit too much set up before I get to the juicy bits. My intention was for the kid to be there when Father and Rose came back and to witness them embrace in the back hall. Gasp! A priest and his housekeeper? Horrors.

I hope you're not working today. Someone needs to be off. Gird your loins for a week's worth of whining to come. Just a friendly warning.
--Barbara