I’m often asked what it’s like to be a writer — how I spend my days, how I experience the world. And so I will be sharing occasional essays from the front lines of my writing life. Enjoy!
Here’s Joe. He’s hitting the ball. He’s having fun.
She’s back in their small apartment, trying to fold laundry while attending to her newborn. She has been trying to fold laundry for hours, but her baby cries and poops and is hungry. Beth cries too and thinks: “18 more years of this?!”
A couple of hours later, Beth hears Joe call her name. She goes to the window. Two floors below is Joe. He’s smiling. “I’m going to go to (some guy’s name) and have a beer.”
Something happens to Beth’s voice. It sounds as if she has been possessed by an evil spirit rising from the deep. She lets out a primal scream: “Get the hell up here!”
Beth has never yelled at Joe. She has always been civil. But she has crossed over to the Dark Side — Parenthood — where it is every man (and woman) for himself.
Beth feels bad, but she gets to fold the laundry — and then throw in another batch. Victory!