Scissor Sisters, and trying to think of how to put down my thoughts. I'm wearing headphones because in the other room, my 6 year old daughter has the neighbors over. Three other little girls. And they're playing....well, I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's loud. And every now and then one of them runs in to where I sit, to tell on one or the other or all. By the way, did you know that a study was commissioned to determine the most annoying noise in the world? Yeah, it wasn't nails on a chalk board.
Anyway, I've just finished folding six (6. Yes, VI.) loads of laundry and washed/dried a sink full of dishes. And dinner? Well, dinner was nutella. Sue me.
When I was in Vegas, I took taxis everywhere (ok, except for one night I hoofed it to the shuttle and one night @PokerVixen chauffeured us and it was awesomeness). I had room service. I got to play poker. I saw beautiful people. I saw freaky people. I saw famous people. I saw broken people. I walked among them and held my own, even if only in my mind.
Here, I grocery shop, and carpool, fold clothes and make sandwiches, answer questions about the Texas Pay Day Act and tactfully try to explain to a really good client why his manager is the devil, costing him waaay more money than he's worth, and must not just be fired, but must be put down. For the good of humankind.
And while I do those things, I think of bet sizes and hands, the rifling of chips and the sounds of the street hawkers. The sun, the heat, the never-ending flow of day into night and back again until you find yourself sitting at a bar at 9 in the morning asking the bartender whether it's Tuesday or Wednesday.
For a moment, I'm right back in it.
At least until I hear, "Ms. (daughter's name's) Mom?! Ms. DN's Mom?! They're not sharing!"
And then? Well, then I hear the sirens because they're taking me away.
(for the record: the 10 minute leg/arm/head/won't let go wrap around hug that I got from my daughter upon walking into the house on the evening I got back from Vegas is a top three moment of my life.)