Free The Ladies' Room by Carolyn Brown

probably didn't even qualify as an oddball.
    After lunch I went home and changed into my new overalls
and orange sleeveless knit shirt and started cleaning out my
bedroom. I carefully wrapped all the ceramic animals in old
newspapers and filled two empty boxes I found in the garage.
After I taped the lids shut, I carried them down to the living
room. I'd haul them down to Durant to the Goodwill store the
next time -I went that way.
    I found a flat-edged screwdriver in the toolbox out in the
garage and went after the shelves and their cornice boards
with the gusto of a hungry hound dog. But the screws had
been there since the sixth day of creation and wouldn't budge.
I leaned into the screwdriver with all my might, and a cornice
finally let go. I started to back that sucker right out of there,
only to have the one on the other end of the shelf let go and the
whole shelf crash down on my bare right foot.
    I threw myself across the bed and beat the pillows while it
throbbed. How was I ever going to get this house cleaned out
and remodeled if my foot rotted off? Its arch was turning
purple, but I could still wiggle all my toes and put weight on
it. It appeared that nothing was broken-thank goodness! I
needed that foot to kick Drew.
    I lugged the shelf to the top of the stairs and chucked it to
the bottom. It clattered and rattled all the way down, landing
only a few inches from a table with a huge lamp shaped like
a Siamese cat. I was going to have to practice my aim. With
luck, by the time I threw the last shelf, I'd break the cat into a
million pieces. I wouldn't even fuss about having to clean up
the mess if I could accomplish that feat before nightfall.

    It was dark when I finished in the bedroom. If Drew knew
what was good for him, he'd catch the red-eye home tonight
instead of waiting until the next day. My arms ached so badly
that I could hardly make a sandwich, but my aim hadn't improved a bit. I hadn't hit the cat lamp even though I'd tried. If
he came home now, I wouldn't have the energy to even utter
angry words in argument, much less kick him with my sore
foot. I might have the energy to pull a trigger if I hadn't left
my .22 behind in my fit of anger. Apparently Gert had known
better than to tempt the devil, because either she didn't keep
guns in the house or I hadn't found one.
- - - - - - - - - - -- --
    I made a ham and tomato sandwich slathered thickly with
mayonnaise and liked it so well, I ate another one. My tired
muscles protested when I started up the stairs, but I didn't
listen to them. After a soaking bath, I went to bed in a nice,
cool room completely devoid of animals with beady little black
eyes.
-- - - - - -- - - - - - - - -
    I laced my hands behind my head and thought about the
next day. My stomach didn't knot up. Drew's clothes and the
house were in shambles. I'd faced off with Charity down at
the bank and basically told everyone where they could go and
which poker to ride. I wasn't taking one step backward. From
now on everything was full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes, even if one was named Drew.

    Billy Lee and I were in my bedroom measuring for new
carpet and talking about paint when the doorbell rang and the
door creaked open. Heavy footsteps crossed the foyer and
moved up the staircase. I hopped up and peeked out the bedroom door into my husband's uplifted eyes when he put his
foot on the third step.
    I shook a finger at him. "You stop right there, and don't take
another step."
    My tone shocked him so badly that he backed up and stopped
in the foyer. That gave me courage to go on. He was not bringing the fight to me on his terms. I was taking it to him ... on
mine.
    I leaned on the banister and took the steps two at a time,
even though my foot ached. "You have no right to walk into
my house as if you were welcome. Out on the porch! I'm not
discussing anything with you in here."
    At about that time, Billy Lee stepped onto the