It was already past ten, but the dense cloud hanging over the valley had no intention of clearing. Tamara stood on the terrace, lips pursed. She needed to get going soon, but the basket was still full of laundry waiting to be hung. In this damp, humid weather, though, the outdoor drying rack wouldn’t do; everything would only get wetter. She’d have to use the dryer.
With a scowl, she knelt in front of the machine in the laundry room, sorting through the clothes in irritation, deciding what could go in and what couldn’t. Her expensive lace underwear was too delicate for the hot air. She closed the dryer door and started the three-hour cycle. By the time she got home, everything would be dry. The first good news of the day.
Of course, the coffee maker was blinking madly, just like a lunatic. And naturally, on this wretched day, it was out of both coffee and water. The fact that the descaling light had also come on almost made her smile. Almost, because her lips had only been capable of moving horizontally or downward since she woke up. It didn’t curve up.
The unopened bag of coffee sat obnoxiously on the top shelf. Tamara felt like throwing something at it. With a sigh, she looked around the kitchen for the step stool so she could reach the coffee stash. But the two-step stool had been left in the garden the night before, and she hadn’t put it back. Frustration filled her from head to toe as she yanked open the utility cabinet door by the fridge. Her forehead was damp with tension, unsure if her search would be successful. Finally, she spotted the instant coffee jar behind the spoon jar and sighed in relief. Before leaving the kitchen with her mug, she shot a resentful glance at the coffee maker. “Not messing with me today, you jerk.”
She didn’t honk. She’d given it up. Just like she’d given cursing and making rude gestures. Even flashing her lights—both plain and with cursing. Though all would have been quite useful that morning.
“Maybe they’re scared,” she said aloud to hear it, not just think it. “Maybe they just got their license yesterday and have no driving experience. I mean, they can’t even handle a straight road, which is why they’re going forty in a ninety zone. And, naturally, traffic is constant in the usually deserted part of town, making it impossible to overtake,” she grumbled, grinding her teeth.
Tamara raised her eyes in despair. That morning, only the city’s most unkempt people seemed to be out shopping. Mouth and armpit odors mingled merrily with the heavy, sugary “scents” of cheap perfumes in the cosmetics aisle. She tried to keep her nose as close to her own body as possible, saved from near-nausea by a loud family argument nearby. The loving parents were in a heated debate over who cheated more often with their coworkers. Meanwhile, their three- and four-year-old children chased each other around the pastry display, yelling, “You’re cheating!” and “No, you’re cheating!”
The self-checkout lanes closed right in front of her. She stared blankly ahead before mechanically moving to line up in one of the long, winding lines. After all, there was no rush. The laundry was in the dryer, she didn’t need to cook, and she didn’t want to anyway. Honestly, she didn’t care about the world. Everything was miserable just as it was.
As her back, bottom, and shoulders settled into the sofa, she finally exhaled the breath she’d been holding—on and off—since the shopping trip. She closed her eyes, waiting for every inch of her to relax. The doorbell rang. Accompanied by the first faint smile of the day, she gave a gentle shrug.
“It’s better for both of us if I don’t open that door right now. Come back in a few days. The Tamara who isn’t on her period is a much nicer person than the one you’d meet today, and you’ll be more tolerable to her, too.”