Sunday consisted of only two tasks. The first was to set the house straight, seeing as I hadn't in a while - the second was a small paper that I'd opted for in order to make up for the essay I'd butchered. I tried to forget that it was Niall who'd destroyed it in the first place, and it seemed to have been working.
I didn't attend any form of church. My parents were never ones to stress religion, though both they and I believed in God. I just didn't see a point in having the same thing taught to you week after week. Once had always been enough for me. Plus, I always had homework and housecleaning to worry about.
I finished folding a pair of my jeans and set them aside with the others. I hadn't folded in a long time. Usually, I just let it sit in the dryer until I needed it. But it felt nice to be able to go to my closet for clothes again. So I continued folding and washing until there wasn't a dirty piece of clothing in sight. I will admit that it got my mind off of everything that'd been happening lately. Dealing with Niall and everything else was tiring, and this was a well-deserved break.
At about two o'clock the house phone started to ring. My eyebrows raised. People rarely called here, unless they had the wrong number while trying to reach one or both of my parents. I checked the number, but ignored it when it didn't register as familiar. They'd either leave a message or figure out they had the wrong number.
A while after the phone stopped ringing, I felt my stomach growl. I sighed, picking up my laptop and moving down to the kitchen. I set it on the table and inspected the fridge, but found nothing desirable. I found an instant meal in the pantry, then tossed that in the microwave before sitting down at the table. While it cooked, I typed away at my paper, the subject unknown to me at this point. I was simply relaying information, reworded excerpts from online sources I'd found. I had no interest in completing the assignment anymore, but I'd promised I'd get my grade up.
Suddenly, the phone started to ring again. My head snapped up, taken by surprise. Was it the same person? The answering machine was set up to give the number to my parents' phones, and usually people didn't call more than once in this amount of time. Intrigued, I walked over to where the phone dock was placed on the counter.
The caller ID was unfamiliar, so I let it go again. Maybe they'd leave a message or call my parents. Phone calls were inconvenient in the way that they broke my focus. I sighed and sat back down at the table, typing away at my essay.
I'd been at it for about four hours when I finally decided to call it good. It was supposed to be a small essay anyway, so I didn't mind when it only printed out two and a half pages. My empty bowl sat next to my computer on the table. I checked the clock above the stove and sighed. It was only about seven o'clock, yet I felt worn out. This weekend had been horribly stressful, with the party, the fact that I woke up in Niall's house, Niall's outburst, talking about my parents, our embrace...
I was tired. That was plain to see.
So I simply closed my laptop, set my dirty dishes in the sink, and trudged up the stairs, my eyelids fluttering closed the whole way there.
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