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“I will take the kids to lunch and then to pick up my parents from the airport. That should give you enough time to clean the entire house as best as possible. We will be back at 2PM—sharp” Sarah instructed, without trying to sound too pushy. She wanted to say “You better turn off the basketball game and get something done!” However, after ten years of marriage, she knew better. Sarah knew that such talk would quickly drive him straight to the couch, with a bag of popcorn, to watch the end of the basketball game. She buckled the kids in the van and ran back into the house. She pretended to look for a sippy cup, for her youngest child, but she was really checking on Mark, her husband. He was still sitting on the couch and he quickly looked up at her. She was caught. She smiled and said “I will see you at 2PM—SHARP.” Sarah bit her tongue and walked out the door. She drove down the street and glanced back at the house. “Hopefully, he is already starting to clean” she whispered. She was worried. Sarah was picking up her mother and father from the airport and they were staying over for the week. Her mother was a perfectionist and wholeheartedly believed that a home in shambles meant a life in shambles. The house was a total mess and there was a lot of work to do. Dishes, toys, and clothes decorated their home. She hoped Mark would clean it up beautifully by the time they returned.
Mark crept off the couch and stood in the middle of the living room. He looked around the house and gasped. It was a mess. Suddenly, he heard a buzzer and the commentator announced “this game is going into overtime!” Like a magnet, he was drawn to the couch. His eyes were glued to the television. He screamed and jumped as the game went on. Finally, the final buzzer sounded. He maneuvered through the toys and dragged himself into the kitchen. There was a mountain of encrusted dishes on the counter. He knew this would be a grueling morning. He stretched out his arm and pried open the refrigerator. He scanned the shelves, but nothing sounded good. He wanted something to snack on before cleaning this tornado-stricken house. He tugged on the freezer door, grabbed a chocolate and vanilla ice cream bar and lugged into the living room. He licked the ice cream. His head shifted left to right. He did not know where to begin. He leaped over the Tonka truck and walked into the bedroom. He wanted to relax a little before cleaning the house and before Sarah’s parents crowded his home—especially her mother. It was quiet and dark in the bedroom. He laid his head on the feather pillow and began to nibble on the ice cream.
There was a sound of a key unlocking the door knob. Mark’s head jolted upward. He darted into the living room. Sarah was standing there with her mouth wide open. Sarah’s parents stood behind her, with their eyes pried wide open. Mark stood there with melted ice cream stuck to his chin and stained on his T-shirt. Sarah blasted bullets at Mark with her eyes. Her nostrils flared. Mark had fallen asleep while eating his ice cream. He had slept for hours. The house was in the same condition as when Sarah had left. “Hmmm” sneered Sarah’s mother, as she shook her head in disgust. “I-I-I had laid … I mean I was going to …” Mark tried to explain. “Daddy, you look silly with chocolate all over your face and shirt” laughed 5-year old Linda. “Yes, you do look silly Mark” Sarah snarled. “Let grandma take us all out for a treat, while your daddy gets something done-for a change!” Sarah’s mother sneered. They all turned around and headed out the door. “Sarah . . . ” Mark cried. “Mark, I said 2PM—SHARP!” Sarah roared. The door slammed. Mark stood in the midst of the rubble. He looked up and saw his reflection on the television. His hair was scraggly, his face was dirty and there were toys and clothes adorning his feet. He slapped his sticky hands over his face and groaned. "What a mess!" he gasped.
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