But then, there comes a day--or a week--when the kids are off. The apartment belongs not just to me, but to all of us, and the tasks at hand are not so simple--sleep, but entertain too, snack--but make lunches too, and shower, but only if there is time left. And I can't help but realize that the up-side of overnight work is the hours in between that are mine, the hours that evaporate on the school breaks. So, every so often, I want to scream at my new apartment-mates, "It's not about you!"
I don't, of course. I squeeze in the sleep, and work out the snacks, and give up the shower. And, along the way, I find that I enjoy the new company and appreciate the different pace. And try to manage the nights without owning the days. But I hold on to that voice inside me--probably one that all of us should own and pull out sometimes. The voice that is able to say "It's not about you!"