MY LIFE – Bunk day

MY LIFE – Bunk day

I had a good idea this morning. It was around 5:30 a.m., give or take a few minutes, and I was still tired, nowhere near able to fall back asleep, but still a bit weary and not yet ready to face the reality of the newly dawning day that still lay ahead of me just waiting to be dealt with. That’s when the idea hit.

“I should take a bunk day and bunk all responsibility today.” You know, kind of like bunking school when you were a kid? Or playing hooky? If it worked for kids, why not for adults? Just take the whole stinking day off, forget about responsibilities, ignore whatever was already on the agenda. Put my overactive parochial school conscience on hold, seize the day and run with it.

The more I thought about it, the better it sounded.

OK, what would be fun?

I know what would be nice. I will take some money, go to the casino, and play the slots. I don’t go very often because it always feels wrong somehow, which I know is stupid because it’s my money after all and it’s not like I’m taking food from the mouths of my children (all of who are grown and fully able to feed themselves now) if I sneak off and blow $40 or $50 (yeah, that’s really all I can bring myself to risk). Since I don’t smoke or drink, I can mentally write it off as entertainment, which is quite reasonable when you think of it that way.

And then I can take myself out for breakfast. Even have bacon or crispy fried corned beef hash and forget about eating healthy and watching my diet. Hah! I won’t even get on the scale this morning, so there!

Then I could come home, ignore the book I am already halfway through reading, and pick up the new book (“A Warning” by Anonymous) that just came in the mail yesterday. Butt down, feet up in my recliner, with not another thought in my head, I could lose myself in the juicy tell-all tale of life in the dysfunctional Trump White House.

Oh, boy! That’s all I needed to get me going as I brushed my teeth, got dressed, jumped in the car and hit the road.

It wasn’t quite 7:30 a.m. when I walked into the casino. Almost no one there, I had the place to myself as I slipped the first $20 bill into the slot and tried my luck, having mentally cautioned myself to just go ahead and not think of it as money. Like I said, I don’t go often, and I don’t risk much. Sticking to the penny machines, all I ask is that they allow me to play for a while before gobbling up all my money. Sometimes I win a little, sometimes I break even, and sometimes I lose it all and feel kind of stupid that I did it, but not for long as I brush it off, chalk it up to experience, and get on with my life.

Today was a “losing it all and feeling kind of stupid day,” but then I really lost it all ... in this case meaning the proverbial big picture ... when I lost my grip on frivolity and remembered that I needed to buy a turkey. Before I knew what I was doing, there I was at Walmart, wrestling a 22.33-pound Butterball into my shopping cart.

It was all downhill after that.

Back at the ranch once again, responsibility and parochial school conscience both rearing their ugly heads, the spell was well and truly broken.

I unloaded the dishwasher and reloaded it with last night’s snack dishes.

I got the crock pot out of storage, filled it with the makings of a new dish I had wanted to try and for which I had purchased all the ingredients, including meat that was going to go bad unless I got things going, and got the stupid meal cooking, although to be honest, the moment had passed and I was no longer quite as gung-ho about actually eating it.

I futzed around baking a cranberry nut bread, cleaning up the kitchen and sweeping up the inevitable fine haze of flour that seems to settle on everything when I bake. That done, I went back out into the cold to fill the bird feeders so the little beggars didn’t go hungry.

As we speak, I am listening to the dryer downstairs buzzing every 60 seconds, reminding me that it’s time to fold the gigantic load of towels I had forgotten to dry after running them through the washer before bed last night. I have a mild case of heartburn from the frozen pizza I baked for lunch and the three (yes, three) nice big slices of warm-from-the-oven cranberry nut bread I followed up with for dessert.

The stupid crock pot, still full of the new dish I cooked but now have no desire at all to eat, has been unplugged and so have I. Bunk day was a bust, but that’s OK. Tomorrow is another day, and life will once again go on.

Wishing you all a Happy Thanksgiving!

Rhea Bouchard Powers is a writer from Cumberland.