Red Room Where the Writers Are

I wander through the house distracted by the unaccustomed peace that settles within the walls. I don't know why but it causes a certain unease in me, a vague distraction, a wonderment that this silence is what I always crave and yet, now that it is here, I struggle with what to do with it. I suppose I could reach up to dislodge the cobwebs and shake down the cushions or file away the rejection letters that sit on my desk or dash together a few scones or make my annual Mammogram appointment or start a shopping list or something mundane like that.  But it seems that the purpose is lost in the silence and the only sound that I can hear is the rumble from the clothes dryer packed with spanking white socks and towels that merrily swirl  within its hot womb.

Hubbie comes in from his office to make a cup of coffee. He is looking good, nice tie and it happens to be his birthday tomorrow. I am going to make him a Cheesecake. Cheesecake is his favourite dessert although everyone else in the house despises it. He wants to know who I am texting. I tell him, Liz and that she is thrilled because she just got the all clear on her Mammogram  and right now she is on the train up to Dublin. He murmurs something to me but I am busy texting Liz back and so he leaves and goes back to his office. Silence. My phone beeps, a smiley face from Liz. Then nothing.

Diagnosis:

Housewife's Syndrome

Housewife gives the impression that she is overworked even though this is not the case. The condition gives rise to feelings of frustration, discouragement, lack of motivation, hopelessness, fatigue, as said housewife feels persistently cheated and trapped at home and resents the husband who is out persuing a career.

Treatment:

The sufferer of Housewife's Syndrome must learn to develop a more active satisfying life, though, in most cases this is rarely achieved.

Did I say that the rain is constant? A reprieve comes tomorrow before another onslaught reaches us on Saturday. The country is flooded, the heavens weep for those who stand underneath their futile umbrellas in bus queues and in lines for social welfare and I saw one old man shuffle along the sidewalk with a paper bag that was close to collapsing. Did I say that the silence of this house can be as unsettling as a tomb? That I had better go now. The laundry must be dry and all those white socks need to be sorted and that making a Cheesecake is no easy task but the secret is in the ingredients, they have to be the best quality, the eggs at room temperature, the crust, a golden buttery shade with a hint of cinnamon and a generous spoon of love.