Maybe not so sitcom, Part II

Scalding water could not erase the memory of the urine puddle she woke up to this morning, which was duly frustrating because the memory of specific particulars of her awesome dream escaped her like a song melody you know but just cant’ seem to bring forward into consciousness.  She stood at the top of the stairs, sighed deeply and began her descent down into the madness below.  At the second step, she slipped on an athletic sock, and before she even had the wherewith all to scream, her body instinctively tucked, rolled forward, arched, and opened to land on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.  Her confusion escalated as a dream memory popped into head of her Angelina Jolie self being told by someone that, “she’s going to steal your identity.”  The memory left her as quickly as it came.  Every nerve and muscle in her body was on fire, not in a painful way, but as if they had been patiently waiting for a moment like this for a very long time.  She sat down quickly on the last step, put her head down between her knees and just breathed, only to be quickly interrupted by her sons arguing about a subject that she knew neither knew absolutely anything about.  Both glanced at her curiously as they stormed out the door, ready for school.  Her husband followed close behind in full workout gear, including but not limited to special goggles and heart rate monitor.  A protein laden kiss on the cheek later and she was left to complete and beautiful silence.  As she turned the corner into the kitchen to find the coffee that would help her start her day, she stopped dead in her tracks to see the mess left behind.  What good is moving like a ninja, when this is what awaits?

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