In my world, any day that gets off to a well-choreographed launch is bound to get rave reviews. Imagine if you will…

Scene: Kitchen, husband and wife, well-rested, no dialog.

They dance around each other, getting ready for the barrage of boys who are due to join them in a matter of minutes. The wife begins emptying the dishwasher. The husband gets out the makings for the boys’ lunches. When she returns the last clean glass to its proper place on the shelf, he swoops next to her to put the silverware back in the drawer. Her bathrobe gracefully flows behind her as she pirouettes over to the oven to heat the frying pan while he does a quick spin and dive into the fridge, grabbing the eggs, bagels and juice. After sashaying over to the table to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, she turns to find him standing there with a hot cup of coffee which he hands to her after planting a tender kiss on her cheek.

“Pinch me,” she exclaims. “I must be dreaming.”

***

Oh, if life were only that well-staged.

Instead, the sensation of hot coffee soaking my toes as I examined the tiny bruise on my arm was enough to rouse me from my imagination.

Morning waltz over, it was clearly time for the curtain. Grabbing a nearby towel, I bent into the most graceful bow possible and sopped up the floor.

The boys entered, stage left, and started Act II while I went to my dressing room to change my socks.

Lucky for me, this is not a limited run engagement…