After A Day In A Cubicle

I had my family sign a no contact agreement. It’s for an hour after I get home from work. Exceptions: Injuries that require a visit to the ER Trauma center and their father is not available to take them.
I sit on the deck, look at the trees and listen to bird song. Sometimes my two Shelties bark incessantly at the neighbors who are fond of revving their extremely loud car engines.
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The opposite of cubicle

One time I wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine and rev my car engine.  Problem is I have a Prius. The engine is so quiet I’ve nearly hit pedestrians in parking lots because they cannot hear it.

Maybe I will place a boom box next to their fence of the emergency broadcast system set at the max volume. That’ll show them.
Sometimes I go over the allotted hour of no contact with the kids. I tell them that I fully support their over the limit screen time. I suggest they research the decline of Justin Bieber. I figure it will buy me an hour or three.
Yesterday evening my thirteen year old son comes out to the deck during the no-contact hour. He lights a candle and burns oak leaves on the flame.
The look on my face would make any reasonable human run away in fear but he keeps burning the leaves.
I say, “You’ve got five seconds to scram, pyro.”
One time my kids and the neighbor built a bonfire in the woods. It’s really fucking stupid to build a fire in the leaves. My husband comes in the house screaming, “The fucking woods are on fire.”
We run down with buckets of water. I’m furious. I see a copperhead on the path. I drop the bucket of water and scream. If there was ever a Calgon Take Me Away moment that situation wins with flying colors.

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