Struggling with the grocery bags, Denise nearly fell into her house. She set them on the counter, then closed and locked the front door,
bolting the top lock first, then the second. It had been a long week - she was exhausted - and she was looking forward to watching a movie, snuggled with her crochet
throw wrapped around her shoulders. She separated the groceries - one pile for
the pantry and one for the refrigerator. She stacked the milk, cheese,
vegetables, fruit, meat, and eggs all on the top shelf, thinking, “That’s good
enough” - then collapsed on the living room sofa with the remote.
No, that’s not good enough.
She heaved herself up, went back into the kitchen, and
pulled all the grocery items back out. She placed the cheese and meat in the
middle drawer with the other deli items; pulled the egg box out and arranged
the eggs on the little plastic crate; threw the cardboard egg container away in
the recycling bin in the garage; put the vegetables in the top crisper drawer;
the fruit in the bottom crisper drawer; and set the milk on the top shelf with
the label facing towards her.
There, that’s good.
She took the pantry items off the counter and placed them
carefully on the shelves – soups organized left to right from creams to broth; basil
to the left of the bay leaves; spaghetti into a Tupperware container with the
noodles.
There, that’s good.
Denise climbed the stairs to her bedroom, counting each step
for the millionth time - seventeen, counting the top step. She took off her
shoes, put them in the box that was marked with a magic marker, “brown stacked heels" and placed them on the top shelf next to the box marked “brown flats.” Her
closet was arranged according to style and color - suits on the left, then skirts,
slacks, then long sleeved blouses, short-sleeved blouses, tank tops. It calmed
Denise to know that everything was organized properly.
Counting seventeen steps downstairs, Denise was ready for
her movie.
Tomorrow was all planned out. Denise needed to do laundry -
whites first, then coloreds, then darks.
Nothing else would be good enough.
Denise sat on the sofa, tears starting to spill over on to
her cheeks.
This is not good enough.
She realized then that her life as it was would never be
good… or enough.
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