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Monday, October 17, 2011
Maytag Performa draft 1 (Something to read on my blog :)
After several attempts at slowing time through the magic of the snooze button, Emilie was finally up and ready for her morning routine. The warmth of her skin hit against the cool of the morning. She pushed her arms through the rough, worn terrycloth of her robe, and pulled it in tight around her chest. "I will have to turn on the pilot to the heater soon." She thought, as she quietly made her way toward the childrens' bedrooms. It was a dark, still morning, wetness hung in the air, reminding her of the storms outside her window the night before. She peeked in each room, and smiled to herself as she saw her children in peaceful slumber, oblivious of the impending school day. The steps creaked as she descended, and their creaking seemed to play harmony with the cracks of her stiff joints. The centuries-old home she lived in had taught Emilie to use many tools in the 3 years she had lived there, but the creaking stairs had yet to make it to the "to-do" list.
Emilie made her way into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, and with a smile, marveled at the ingenuity of man, silently thanking the genious who thought of adding a timer to a coffee pot. She also thanked herself for remembering to set it. The heat of the caraffe poured outward, and filled the air between itself and the fingers she had clasped around the handle. It's weight tested her morning muscles, and reminded her to do her stretches. "After my shower." she thought. Rarely did she get to the stretches, always putting them past the next task at hand. In fact, she had good intentions for many things, such as the coffee she poured. Usually, it was left on the counter to cool down, forgotten, and discovered hours leater, after it had become cold. Then she would drink it anyway, with one giant gulp while rushing through her day, always trying to catch up. Today was no different. She took a sip, and felt the bite of heat as the coffee reminded her to wait. Setting it on the counter to cool, she opened the kitchen window.
Her handmade curtains were designed like roman shades, with cords that pulled and lifted them up. Emilie pulled up the cords, and wrapped them around an old wooden spool she had screwed into the wall for this purpose. Bits of fabric had been carefully cut and sewn together to form her "window quilts". She felt a sense of balance by using scraps saved from her children's old clothing, those memories still fresh, but fading slightly like the fabrics themselves. Also infused into her work were scraps found at estate sales, bits that had been saved for a rainy day, only to have their owner pass on, leaving behind good intentions disguised as junk. Emilie loved to create things out of these pieces that had been treasured by her kindred spirits. Friends she never got the chance to meet. She understood the importance of those years of saving them, and couldn't bear the idea it had been done for nothing. So, the scraps became curtains, clothing, purses. Lots of purses, but that is another story.
She opened the kitchen window, and looking out into the morning light, saw a gold and red leaf float down across the air , swirl around, and land on the dampened driveway. The rain last night had washed clean the surface of the earth, and laid way for a clean crisp fall day. The clouds were parting, and a feeling of beauty and hope was hanging on the morning. "It will be a great day to hang the sheets out to dry!" She thought, and hurried into the laundry room to put in a load before the kids woke up.
Emilie made her way into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, and with a smile, marveled at the ingenuity of man, silently thanking the genious who thought of adding a timer to a coffee pot. She also thanked herself for remembering to set it. The heat of the caraffe poured outward, and filled the air between itself and the fingers she had clasped around the handle. It's weight tested her morning muscles, and reminded her to do her stretches. "After my shower." she thought. Rarely did she get to the stretches, always putting them past the next task at hand. In fact, she had good intentions for many things, such as the coffee she poured. Usually, it was left on the counter to cool down, forgotten, and discovered hours leater, after it had become cold. Then she would drink it anyway, with one giant gulp while rushing through her day, always trying to catch up. Today was no different. She took a sip, and felt the bite of heat as the coffee reminded her to wait. Setting it on the counter to cool, she opened the kitchen window.
Her handmade curtains were designed like roman shades, with cords that pulled and lifted them up. Emilie pulled up the cords, and wrapped them around an old wooden spool she had screwed into the wall for this purpose. Bits of fabric had been carefully cut and sewn together to form her "window quilts". She felt a sense of balance by using scraps saved from her children's old clothing, those memories still fresh, but fading slightly like the fabrics themselves. Also infused into her work were scraps found at estate sales, bits that had been saved for a rainy day, only to have their owner pass on, leaving behind good intentions disguised as junk. Emilie loved to create things out of these pieces that had been treasured by her kindred spirits. Friends she never got the chance to meet. She understood the importance of those years of saving them, and couldn't bear the idea it had been done for nothing. So, the scraps became curtains, clothing, purses. Lots of purses, but that is another story.
She opened the kitchen window, and looking out into the morning light, saw a gold and red leaf float down across the air , swirl around, and land on the dampened driveway. The rain last night had washed clean the surface of the earth, and laid way for a clean crisp fall day. The clouds were parting, and a feeling of beauty and hope was hanging on the morning. "It will be a great day to hang the sheets out to dry!" She thought, and hurried into the laundry room to put in a load before the kids woke up.
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