The rush and bubbles

A noon sometimes spent outside accumulates into a need to thoroughly relax upon reaching home.
Not easy if you've little ones in the house waiting to be fed, because then the reality of wandering about in the heat outside suddenly hits home.
When one person lounges on the couch readying to nap, another person is left with feeding five cats and putting away the bits of fruit and grocery shopping.
It begins to dawn how weary the afternoon is, the warmth seeping in, the cats meowing to be fed again while one cries to be let outside and another refusing to eat their special vet diet. The grocery bag sitting on the floor waiting to be unloaded, the tee shirt soaking steadily with sweat because of how alarmingly warm the kitchen is, and just one thought ringing in your head ' I need to strip and cry in a blisteringly cold air conditioned room.'

It takes a good twenty minutes before you can reach your bedroom upstairs, pull off the clothes now clinging like a vice, unhook the suffocatingly uncomfortable bra that is wet in the folds under the breast and feels like a a miserable alien presence stuck to your body and finally slide on the clean linen sheets you changed this morning to type a long post and tell you how much I fucking miss you.