The little battery operated clock, above the sink, read 6:47, when she heard her husband's truck pull in.

No worries, the dining room table was set, and the dinner sat in the oven, draped with a carefully unfolded piece of good tin foil, which later would be wiped off and refolded a few more times.  Stuff was expensive, and one income.  Neither cared for piping hot anyway.  She quick touched up her lipstick, slipped on her heels, and headed for the backdoor, to welcome home her gem of a husband.  Oh yeah, Hillary missed him - but this is a PG rated story.

The dinner wasn't dry.  Over the past several months, Hillary had figured out - per Hanna's Housewifey blog, how to keep a meal moist and tasty, when it had to keep for awhile.  Over the past months, Hillary learned alot - namely, keeping house was far better done, with brain intact.  Back during early summer, when she held the corner office, she'd of not bought the idea - for one second - that preparing meals, taking care of laundry, and such was fit for anybody with an iq over 85.  Oh, the little remarkies she'd quip, here and there, among her managerial family - yeah, the "family," who, not once, sent her, so much as a qwik "how ya doing?" text.  It was almost like, she had leprosy, or cooties, or something.  Yeah, whatever.  

However, what did disturb her, was how the reset was changing her;  she found herself beginning to "settle in."  Oh sure, she missed the money, and even some of the drama.  But she found herself not missing the stress, the worry - and most of all, the rank fakery and the ongoing eggshell stroll.  While housework, though boring at times, was her call; no sluffballs to have to watch at all times, while being careful NOT to be seen checking up.  That episode, last year had put her on notice - she had been darn lucky she hadn't been canned that particular day she had called someone's shoddy work for what it was.  Nor did she miss the 45 minutes-of -drama commutes, each way - while most the other passengers minded their own business, there had been more than a few whose quarreling and bullying would embarrass the students, from her middle school days, who rode Bus #39.  What a bunch, they had a cruel streak.  Since her commute stop was the last, before reaching the city, sometimes Hillary had to sit too close to the back - where 30 and 40-somethings were, evidently, reliving their 8th grade glory days.

Anyway, housework sure replaced the need to shilly-shally back and forth to the gym - on those dark rainy nights, with a bag of laundry to add to the, now past-tense:) pile.  Per fitness, it had also occurred to her, only days before - one evening - while both she and Chet were getting dressed to go out somewhere, Chet's trousers fit a bit loose.  Was an a-ha moment.  They both had lost weight, since curbing the curb$ide.  Still, she couldn't quite shake the "kept woman" remarkie - which, from mid summer to ... oh, just last week, while grocery shopping - more than one individual, with a smirk, had quipped at her.  Paybacks be a muthahubba.