The Existential Woman page five

When Shanna awoke on Monday morning it was about 7 a.m. She dragged herself to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. That was her habit and routine. Coffee. She didn't wake up and rush to the bathroom to wash her face or brush her teeth. She couldn't even think about dealing with life or thinking without at least one cup of coffee. Whether this was a superficial belief or a deep truth, she didn't care to change it. She was comfortably settled about the daily ritual.

Norman was gone already. Most work days, he would leave early in the morning before the sun had illuminated the sky and before Shanna awoke. He would not return home until at least 5 p.m. and that was generally early. Sometimes she wanted to have dinner ready for him to eat when he returned home, to thank him or show him love and kindness, but she hated cooking and she hated the fact that she never knew what time he would get back. Besides, they didn't even have a formal dining table. They both ate in their chairs in the living room using a folding table or the desk. She had become accustomed to their gruff dinner manners, but she never liked it. It seemed a disrespect to their mother. The mother who always had a formal dining room table. The mother who always had a perfect set of china in the china cabinet. The mother who always made Shanna set the table in a certain manner. The mother who always had dinner ready at a certain hour. The mother who would slap Norman's hands if he tried to eat before saying grace. While Norman preferred their new ways and even seemed happy to have escaped those strict politics, Shanna didn't feel the same way about it. Shanna felt as though they were forgetting themselves, and their roots. She knew that her true self was never what her mother wanted her to be, but she also knew that her mother had invested too much time, too much love, and too much discipline, so that Shanna could never forget, and never truly be comfortable embracing the lifestyle that Norman thought was "better".

After Shanna got a warm cup of coffee, she sat at Norman's desk and pulled out her planner. Inside the folder were notes about her budget, bills she had to pay, and lists of other tasks and purchaees that she had prioritized. She thought about Monday. She knew that she could go about today and get things done, but her mood was dragging. Some would call it "lack of motivation" and when she thought about that she wanted to laugh because she didn't really believe in that kind of thinking. She knew that if she simply made a decision, she could snap out of her "mood" and get going on her to-dos immediately. Yet she didn't want to snap out of it. She wanted to lounge in front of the desk and procrastinate. Her mind was full of excuses. The mere thought of having to change her clothes and go for a drive in the traffic was enough to plant her firmly in the chair and procrastinate further. She loved long drives on the open highway, but she hated driving in the madness of congested city traffic. It was worse than rotten eggs. Some of the drivers were truly insane. They seemed to have no idea how dangerous the road was. They seemed to have a death wish. Although Norman had been calling Shanna "crazy" most of their lives, Shanna knew that there were plenty of people in the world much crazier than her.

She glanced at her task list. Should she go to the cell phone company and get service again? She didn't want her old phone number. She didn't want to pay double to re-install it. She had seen plenty of advertisements stating that she was qualified to receive discounted service. She would have to explain that and see if that could be accomplished. She already felt a pain of irritation considering how the sales people at those places were so greedy and unsympathetic. She looked at the next task on the list.

Should she pawn her tablet? She had already received another one for free. Did they have any value then? She had pawned both her cell phone and tablet for $30 back in May and she knew she wouldn't get much. Yet she also knew she wasn't going to pay the $50 for the terrible service again. She sighed and looked at the next task on the list.

She needed to get some computer paper. Currently she was using school notebook paper to print things on and it looked ridiculous. She also needed to get cigarettes. She had been considering the money she could save if she quit. She would think back to the time she quit smoking cold turkey, all on her own without any crutch. She had lasted two months and then she "fell off the wagon" as the saying goes. In that two months, she hadn't saved a penny. She knew it really wasn't about the money. Although her smoking was an expensive habit, it was still cheaper than a lot of things that she could be wasting her time on. She sighed again, not satisfied with these thoughts and looked at the next task. Pay two bills. That was the easiest of all the tasks on her list.

She looked around the condo. After the weekend when she and Norman spent the most time together in the condo, it always looked the worst. The floor was obviously dirty and needed a sweep and mop. The laundry basket was full again. She had cleaned the toilet and washed the dishes last night so she didn't have to worry about those. This was a typical Monday and the floor and the laundry were typical of her Mondays. All of the other tasks could wait until Tuesday. Just cleaning the floors and dealing with the laundry was enough work for Monday. Plus, she still had the garbage and bins to deal with. Why should she do everything in one day? There were plenty of days all through the week for her to deal with all these tasks.

Then she wanted to laugh again. As if a voice in her head was poking at her...What about fun? What about joy? What about pleasure? How often do you pay attention to those? Shanna knew it wasn't very often. Her habitual life was mostly comprised of tasks, work, and routine. Fun? Joy? Pleasure? Pleasure to her was chocolate desserts or a good dinner. Fun? Fun to her was thinking about the ironies and ridiculousness of life. Joy? Joy? She thanked God every day that she had her van. Joy was a full tank of gas and driving fast on an open highway with the radio blasting. She sighed again. Fun, Joy, and Pleasure would have to wait. The priorities of life did not put those three on the top of the list. Her mother had taught her early in life that dessert comes after the cooking and after the main meal.