I wave to the husband and the kids and smile, sitting calmly in the chair, surprised by the sudden time alone.

They pull away from the house and still I sit, appearing to be calmly contemplating what to do with myself. But inside my mind is racing.

I jump up and race for the kitchen.

My thoughts are jumbled but determined.

Oh my gosh! I’m alone for 20 minutes! Grab the remote, a cup of tea, a snack and run a bath! Hurry!

They’ll be back before you know it and you’ll be back to fetching juice boxes and arguing over how many more math problems he has to do before he’s done with school for the week.

Tea. Tea. Tea.

Where are the tea bags? Where are they?! Oh! Here they are! Yes!

The dog is by the door. No. I don’t have any time for letting a dog out. I must hurry.

Ross Poldark is waiting for me.

Let the dog out onto the porch, but her lede is stuck around the slide. Unhook the lede from the slide, hook her up, coax her out the door, run back inside, out of the biting cold wind that came with the temperature drop.

Put a cup of water with a tea bag in it in the microwave, put some peanut butter on some rice crackers, take the tea out and add some honey and then tip the entire cup full over, onto the counter and down to the floor.

Yell, “Damn and blast! Damn and blast!” in my best Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady voice. (Special note that I only approve of “swearing” if it can be said in one’s best Rex Harrison voice.)

Don’t be discouraged. Keep going.

Clean up the mess and put another cup of water with a tea bag in the microwave.

Once the mess is cleaned up and the tea is done rush to the living room and click play on Poldark, who is deep in brooding mode (yet again) while I copy photos to a flash drive and tap out the first draft of this blog post and then start the Sunday Salon post for Sunday about what books I’m reading.

Halfway into an over-dramatic scene between Ross and Elizabeth, the front door swings open and kids and bedraggled looking husband emerge. Total time alone: 20 stinking minutes, if that.

Trips to Walmart with two kids takes me an hour, maybe longer. For my husband? Twenty stupid minutes.

Damn and blast, indeed, Rex.