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A Harried Life
“I’m glad we don’t have to worry about that kind of thing,” Jack told his wife with a peck on the cheek and a “What’s for dinner?”
“I thought we could pick up the kids and grab a bite out.” Eating out was something the Richarsons did a lot: McDonad’s, Arby’s, Burger King. The kids understood the nuances of each proffered kids’ meals before they could use silver ware.
“Sounds good. I want to get home in time for the game. Colts at 7:00.”
So there it was. A typical evening in the Richardson home. A convenient dinner out, home in time to escape in front of the television.
They had a hurried dinner out, stopped by the grocery, and made a quick trip into the building store before heading home. At each stop, they’d run into family they knew. It seemed the Richardsons were not the only family whose social circuit had been reduced to dining on fast food and running errands on a Friday night. Had anyone told her during her earlier years that she would enjoy these outings, she’d have laughed. She wasn’t laughing now.
As Karen busily put the purchases away: light bulbs, tissues, detergent, the boys were instructed to finish their homework and get their baths. Jack was already in front of the television awaiting the game.
“I need help on math,” Jamie yelled from his room.
“Ask your dad.”
“He said ask you. He’s watching the news.”
“Mom! I need a towel!” Eric called from the bathroom.
Trudging down the hall of the sprawling four bedroom, two-and- a-half- bath ranch, Karen fought her rising frustration.