At the End of the Day

At the end of almost every day, I've got nothing left. It's not rocket science - kids (and life generally) take everything, every scrap of mental, physical, and spiritual energy throughout the day. So, is it really any wonder that I don't want the hanky panky at the end of the day? I can't figure out how men do it, or randy women for that matter; all day they deal with the stress of work, commutes, then parenting and they still wanna notch up the bedpost. All I really need is a little conversation, "talk about day," as we call it and fifteen minutes with my book before I fade away and have to do it all again.

Now the middle of the day is something different. I might get a flicker, a spark, a yen for the mind body connection. Sometimes, I'm determined to hold on to my libertine thoughts, to keep them alive and burning until night, when we might have a free moment. But almost without exception, the fiery thoughts from the afternoon dissipate with dinner, cleaning, stories and bath time. It makes perfect sense and yet the loss of the fire is a little sad; it's there after all, ember's still burning. But little people, with little hands, little messes and little needs always manage to snuff it before the blaze can really burn. Might be that Chris needs a job closer to home. :0