“There’s got to be more to life than this!” she cried, standing in front of a sinkful of dirty dishes, a rubber-gloved hand shaking the soggy Scrunge towards heaven.
“Hmm?” he asked from his post at the kitchen table. His head and shoulders were illuminated by the laptop screen as he answered some emails, read the Guardian Online and snuck a few surreptitious glances at the Project Runway homepage.
She shuffled back and forth in her droopy yoga pants and Slippery Rock University t- shirt, picking up half-empty coffee cups and cereal bowls.
“I mean, we used to laugh at people like us!” she went on, stabbing into a corner or two with a dripping Swiffer and then shoveling an armload of newspapers into the recycling bin under the counter. “We were interesting, we were exciting, we had passion…” she trailed off. “Whatever that is.” She picked up a box of Muesli Light. “Now we just have meals and chores and routine and comfortable clothes.” She slammed the box down on the table. “I don’t want to be careful and I don’t to be comfortable and I don’t want muesli. I. Want. Passion.”
He looked up then with a little smile on his face pertaining to a witty article he’d just read, but quickly changed that into an expression of care and concern.
“You haven’t heard a single word I’m saying!” she screamed at him, and stomped out of the room, if Birkenstocks were ever able to stomp.
Later that afternoon she was sitting at the laptop in the kitchen, paying a few bills and checking the various strangers’ blogs that somehow seemed realer and more compelling to her than the lives of her own friends and family. She heard the front door open and he came in with a load of shopping from Trader Joe’s. He set a plastic Walgreen’s bag down on the table and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She opened the bag and took out a small purple and black perfume box. “Elizabeh Taylor’s ‘Passion’?”
He opened some cupboard doors and was putting a box of granola away. “It’s what you asked for, isn’t it?” he asked innocently. “I didn’t even know they still made the stuff!”
(Prompted by Sunday Scribblings)