When I Close My Eyes...

Saturday.  Thank you Lord for Saturday...I've been looking forward to this day all week. 

Monday through Friday...hell.  I'm just going to say it...pure hell.  Family issues, work issues, whiney children, I end my  day at five o'clock and I am instantly thrust into the role of a chauffeur to my three boys sports practices, school events, church functions....where is my down time? 

I have been hit with controversies and circumstances out of my control....

Do you ever feel out of control?

Saturday....oh, Saturday...how I have longed for you Saturday!

7 am.  Why am I awake?  It's Saturday...I have no schedule today.  My eyelids flutter...I open my eyes and I let out a deep sigh. 

Hmmmmffph!

Flat hair.  Sahara Desert like legs.  Aching body.  Restless mind.  My eyes feel like a sand pit.  I sit up and listen to the hum of the heater, the soft ticking of the side table clock, hottie husbands snoring....

And I slowly close my eyes and allow myself to drift into another world...and do you know what I imagine?

I live in a climate where the weather is never above or below 72 degrees.  The sun is always shining, the moon is always bright.  The trees in all their green glory sway in the gentle wind, the leaves rustle a soft song....

Robert Pattinson is my neighbor...and I look out my kitchen window while sipping on my French Roast coffee and wave back to Robert, who is skimming the top of his pool, preparing for a morning swim. 

Barack Obama is republican...and there is no crazy talk of health insurance.  Oprah pays my taxes, shoot, she pays ALL of my bills...because let's face it, she's gotten by with enough "easy life", right?

Bratz Dolls are outlawed.  The more sugar you eat, the more weight you loose.  Personal trainers named Andre don't increase the intensity of the workout when you gripe and complain. 

Pink is the preferred color, everywhere.  We wear ball gowns to work...no wait, there is no work...we get paid to stay home and lay by our backyard pools and watch Robert Pattinson swim...in a speedo.  And we make good money at that....

John Travolta brushes my hair.  Channing Tatum paints my toenails. 

"MOM?!?!?!!!  What's for breakfast?!?!?"

I am violently tossed back to reality....

And I reach for the bottle of lotion on my bedside table, because dry legs are something I can control...