9:oo p.m. Monday Night
Dad: Tomorrow, take the trash out to the curb, okay?
Karen: Why don't I do it, now? I'm dressed and I have to move the car, anyway...
Dad: No! It's too early. It goes out tomorrow!
Karen: Okay.
(Outside, the snow is coming down in tiny bits and pieces, hard, like broken glass.)
Karen: It's starting to storm...I should take the trash out, now, before it is covered in ice...
Dad: Tomorrow! Take it to the curb, tomorrow!
Karen: sigh...
5:30 a.m. Tuesday Morning
t.v. weather-station comes on: Storming till this afternoon; freezing rain; icey conditions...
Karen pulls on warm clothes. Brushes teeth. Puts on snowboots, parka, hat and gloves. She is about to go out to get the trash barrel unstuck from the ice, when her mother enters the kitchen.
Mom: What are you up so early for?
Karen: I have to take the trash to the curb--last week I got up too late and Dad had a fit because the trash guys arrived early...
Mom: For God's Sake, the trash doesn't go out till tomorrow!
Karen: Dad said it goes today...
Mom: Wednesday!
Karen: Isn't that for re-cycling and--
Mom: Yes, every other week, but the trash goes out on Wednesday morning EVERY week...how long have you been back here?
Karen: Well, I should move my car, then....
Mom: Why? Your sister isn't coming home today...and we aren't going out in this weather. Leave it. If there's an emergency, you can always pull it into the street, later.
Karen takes off hat, boots, parka, etc. Returns to her bedroom.
7:30 a.m. A sound of a car pulling into the driveway rises to Karen's room. It is her little brother, arriving to snowblow the one inch of snow that has managed to coat the driveway.
Karen knows she must move her car, immediately, out of the driveway, so he can pull out the snowblower and get around where she was parked.
Karen puts on hat, parka, boots, gloves, etc.
Karen goes out to greet brother and move car.
Brother: (shouting over snowblower) Just move it halfway down the drive, then pull into Ann's spot. She's not coming home today, right?
Karen nods. Gets into her car. Starts it. Warms it up. Moves it fifty feet, down the driveway.
Brother finishes snow blow.
Karen moves car BACK to sister's spot, in driveway.
Brother pulls his car behind her.
Brother: I'm coming in for coffee, before I go to work.
9:45 a.m.
Phone rings.
Mom: (To Karen and Brother and Dad.) It's your sister. She's calling from Burger King. Do you want anything? She's on her way home, from work.
Karen rises. She pulls on parka, boots, hat, gloves. She grabs her keys.
Brother: I gotta go, too. Thanks for the coffee, Ma! He exits.
Karen waits till he pulls out of the driveway, then follows him.
She parks her car in the street, just as a snowplow pushes up a banking of slush around the outside of her vehicle.
10:30 a.m.
Phone rings.
Sister Ann wants to know if we need anything from the store.
Mom: No! I'm going out later, anyway.
Mom hangs up phone.
Mom: Your sister is coming from the grocery; I'm leaving in a few minutes, but she says that tomorrow and Thursday you can park in her space because she will stay at Work those nights.
Did you move your car yet, so I can get out of the garage?
Dad: (entering the kitchen) The trash goes out tonight, to the curb. Not yet, though. It's too early.
When do you leave to tutor?
Karen: At three p.m.
Dad: Can you put the trash out when you get home? Or when you leave?
Karen: I can do it now...
Dad: It's too early. Do it later.
Mom: You can park in your sister's spot when you get back--she isn't coming home again until Friday morning.
Dad: I thought she wasn't coming home, today!
Mom: No, no, no. She checks on her friend, Sarah, on Tuesdays, and then comes home. Today's Tuesday! No wonder I'm crazy--you all expect me to keep your calendar's straight and I've got enough of my own to worry about!
Dad: You can park in your sister's spot when you get home, after tutoring, tonight. And don't forget to put the trash out...
(It' s times like these that I truly appreciate the notion of " a room of one's own, with a lock on the door, privacy, and five hundred pounds free and clear..."
9:
Dad: Tomorrow, take the trash out to the curb, okay?
Karen: Why don't I do it, now? I'm dressed and I have to move the car, anyway...
Dad: No! It's too early. It goes out tomorrow!
Karen: Okay.
(Outside, the snow is coming down in tiny bits and pieces, hard, like broken glass.)
Karen: It's starting to storm...I should take the trash out, now, before it is covered in ice...
Dad: Tomorrow! Take it to the curb, tomorrow!
Karen: sigh...
5:30 a.m. Tuesday Morning
t.v. weather-station comes on: Storming till this afternoon; freezing rain; icey conditions...
Karen pulls on warm clothes. Brushes teeth. Puts on snowboots, parka, hat and gloves. She is about to go out to get the trash barrel unstuck from the ice, when her mother enters the kitchen.
Mom: What are you up so early for?
Karen: I have to take the trash to the curb--last week I got up too late and Dad had a fit because the trash guys arrived early...
Mom: For God's Sake, the trash doesn't go out till tomorrow!
Karen: Dad said it goes today...
Mom: Wednesday!
Karen: Isn't that for re-cycling and--
Mom: Yes, every other week, but the trash goes out on Wednesday morning EVERY week...how long have you been back here?
Karen: Well, I should move my car, then....
Mom: Why? Your sister isn't coming home today...and we aren't going out in this weather. Leave it. If there's an emergency, you can always pull it into the street, later.
Karen takes off hat, boots, parka, etc. Returns to her bedroom.
7:30 a.m. A sound of a car pulling into the driveway rises to Karen's room. It is her little brother, arriving to snowblow the one inch of snow that has managed to coat the driveway.
Karen knows she must move her car, immediately, out of the driveway, so he can pull out the snowblower and get around where she was parked.
Karen puts on hat, parka, boots, gloves, etc.
Karen goes out to greet brother and move car.
Brother: (shouting over snowblower) Just move it halfway down the drive, then pull into Ann's spot. She's not coming home today, right?
Karen nods. Gets into her car. Starts it. Warms it up. Moves it fifty feet, down the driveway.
Brother finishes snow blow.
Karen moves car BACK to sister's spot, in driveway.
Brother pulls his car behind her.
Brother: I'm coming in for coffee, before I go to work.
9:45 a.m.
Phone rings.
Mom: (To Karen and Brother and Dad.) It's your sister. She's calling from Burger King. Do you want anything? She's on her way home, from work.
Karen rises. She pulls on parka, boots, hat, gloves. She grabs her keys.
Brother: I gotta go, too. Thanks for the coffee, Ma! He exits.
Karen waits till he pulls out of the driveway, then follows him.
She parks her car in the street, just as a snowplow pushes up a banking of slush around the outside of her vehicle.
10:30 a.m.
Phone rings.
Sister Ann wants to know if we need anything from the store.
Mom: No! I'm going out later, anyway.
Mom hangs up phone.
Mom: Your sister is coming from the grocery; I'm leaving in a few minutes, but she says that tomorrow and Thursday you can park in her space because she will stay at Work those nights.
Did you move your car yet, so I can get out of the garage?
Dad: (entering the kitchen) The trash goes out tonight, to the curb. Not yet, though. It's too early.
When do you leave to tutor?
Karen: At three p.m.
Dad: Can you put the trash out when you get home? Or when you leave?
Karen: I can do it now...
Dad: It's too early. Do it later.
Mom: You can park in your sister's spot when you get back--she isn't coming home again until Friday morning.
Dad: I thought she wasn't coming home, today!
Mom: No, no, no. She checks on her friend, Sarah, on Tuesdays, and then comes home. Today's Tuesday! No wonder I'm crazy--you all expect me to keep your calendar's straight and I've got enough of my own to worry about!
Dad: You can park in your sister's spot when you get home, after tutoring, tonight. And don't forget to put the trash out...
(It' s times like these that I truly appreciate the notion of " a room of one's own, with a lock on the door, privacy, and five hundred pounds free and clear..."
9:
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