Catherine is up to something; I just know it.
There is no other explanation for her behavior.
It’s her winter break and I have worked from home these past two days. And each day, she has laid aside the laptop, emerged from the cave-like comfort of her bedroom and offered to make me lunch.
Tuesday, it was turkey and spinach on whole wheat with a kiss of mustard.
Today, it was a cheese and avocado quesadilla, carefully cut in pint-sized triangles and dotted with salsa.
(Of course, I don’t have pictures of either — I was too busy eating. You’ll have to pretend the accompanying image was the real McCoy.)
Each day, she then retreated to her phone calls, Face Time, TV shows and texting, not to be heard from again until snack time or time to head out into the world after a serious effort at hair and makeup — hers, not mine! (And let the record show she didn’t serve me snacks.)
Sadly, I am not working from home tomorrow and will have to fend for myself, packing a bag lunch many hours before she rolls out from under the zebra print comforter.
As you likely have figured out, I am more than a little puzzled and ever-so-slightly suspicious.
As far as I can tell, I have not been poisoned.
Her 17th birthday is still several weeks away, and a couple of recent babysitting jobs have her flush.
What does the kid want?