In every dream home a holiday (version 2)
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Mrs Norbitt always looked forward to the holidays. Two weeks dedicated to the pursuit of rest, hang work, hang the chores, feet up and fingers curled round a decently fortified iced tea. She could look forward to chatting with friends - or ignoring them all together. There would be the fun of lazy meals cooked at scrappy times or even ordered in, and of course there would be restaurants. Maybe even the theater, oh it had been so long that it was a definite effort to recall when last they, the Norbitt’s of Inchwood Heights, had taken to the town. Mrs Norbitt had flounced to her hearts content in a new dress and fresh heels before sitting in the seats (somewhat uncomfortable, truth be told) of the Grand Theater to catch the latest show. And in the holidays there was always a real buzz, everyone getting a kick from it, no surreptitious snoozing in the dark.
And wasn’t everyone the better for it? Faces would shine and eyes glitter on those occasions that, clad in a soft robe and favorite house slippers, neighbors would bump into one another or wave from windows to a smiling family raucously squashing themselves into the family automobile or an impatiently waiting taxi to be whisked off to parts unknown - unknown to Mrs Norbitt at least until the postcards started rolling in. There would be a flush to every cheek; women would lock gazes, woman to woman, for the briefest instant - for an instant would be all that was necessary to KNOW:
Last night was a good night then?
Oh my dear, yes! And in the afternoon too!
Oh how absolutely shocking - and how marvelous!
Yes, you know I woke up this morning and there was a rose on my pillow!
So romantic!
Isn’t it though - and just about the only time of year when it wouldn’t have me immediately planning how to poison his secretary!
Ha, ha, ha!
And of course it was good for the men-folk too. Two weeks away from the smoky pressures of the boardroom or the office, a whole vacation in which to engage in tasks entirely different from the brow furrowing complexities of business. A chance to give the over taxed mind a well deserved rest and no talk of difficult decisions to be made, deadlines looming, plans in the offing, or of juggling annuities or stocks and bonds, taxes, profit margins and all the other strange things to which a husband would so often allude.
So yes, all in all Mrs Norbitt was looking forward to the holidays, looking forward to them very much indeed. Of course, there were all the necessary preparations first, a thousand and one minor domestic details in case of an unexpected variance in the weather (though the Bureau could be relied upon more and more these days) or if there was to be a long trip away, or a day picnicking or - well, goodness knew, half the fun was trying to second guess the surprising delights ahead - and in so often being wrong. This was a genuine pleasure compared to the routines of normal daily life, not that Mrs Norbitt didn’t appreciate order and organization, no, no, far from it, but all the same, for the two weeks of summer break, the unexpected was as welcome as a songbird on the apple tree. Hampers had to be unearthed, cloths and cutlery and tuppaware cleaned and readied, jellies and preserves and spreads purchased and stocked (along with a good supply of drinks), fishing rods cleaned, towels laundered, bug sprays, sticking plasters, iodine - gosh, a whole heap of tasks. Standing in the sun and its reflected gleam and surveying the kitchen and the wall mounted notes and lists, Mrs Norbitt took a moment to ponder the blessing of helpmates. “Oh I’d be quite lost without them!” she’d exclaimed in the past and on more than one occasion, and even as her husband demurred she would explain at length to friends or dinner guests (those rare occasions) just why and how she was fortunate that the house contained a full retinue of serving machines - quite apart from the especial needs of the vacation period.
Standing there, she smiled down at just such a one, DomUnit1234asc the ever attentive vacuum and disposal machine. So vital. She leaned forward making a pretty ‘Oh’ with her mouth and patted the faithful machines silver chrome head. Her fingers danced lightly, a sort of thrill running up her arm, static no doubt, quite common really in the summer, especially if she was, like today, wearing her nylons. Reaching into the side pocket of her pinafore, Mrs Norbitt drew out a colored punch-card and slipped it into the Units top slot with familiar ease. There was a whir and a click as the new set of instructions were processed and then the unit moved off towards the hall at the front of the house to begin vacuuming. Mrs Norbitt meantime opened the back door and with a stubby comptwand summed one of the garden units. Unit GS88a heard the call and promptly skittered across the front lawn and up to her. Yes, she thought, looking down at the burly machine, 88 was quite the right choice, it had been in the household longer than most and apart from the domestic labors of fixing linoleum floors or presenting the Norbitts with a hot towel as they stepped from the shower, it actually lead quite an exciting life by the standards of many machines; chasing unwelcome stray dogs, catching rats and other pests, making repairs to the wooden fences out front and so forth.
Mrs Norbitt did worry slightly that the machines days might be a little TOO exciting. Only last week the household had lost 88b to a cunningly devised pit-trap laid by Sammy along with the neighbors' boys. But Mr Norbitt had told her not to worry and he was right, she knew that, after all Sammy was spending the two weeks at camp and the boys next door were visiting a maiden aunt in the country somewhere. And Mrs Norbitt had to admit, as she took a duster and buffed up the Units aluminum front-piece and the steel dome that protected the electronic brain, she had always had a certain fondness for little 88a. The hardworking machine seemed to register the fact too, always buzzing and purring when she was around, though that could be a womans' over active imagination, Mrs Norbitt had read about such things. She was smiling anyway as she said, “So 88a, ready for your vacation?”
……………..
Two weeks later Mr Norbitt regarded the smiling face of his wife as she stood in front of him and the mind-transfer chamber. She handed him a drink as she asked cheerily, “So, darling, did you have a nice vacation?”
“Hell no!” Mr Norbitt growled, and his profanity made his wife start. “It was a war-zone! That was it, yes - it was like being at the Front!”
“Oh dear,” Mrs Norbitt replied finally, her voice sounded huskier than her husband remembered, “Only surely it was quite so bad?”
Mr Norbitt growled again. “You can’t know until you’ve been chased by spiders, gone into a wasp’s nest on purpose and fought them and “- he stopped, took a shuddering breath and a good slug of the drink in his hand. “I can you this - I’m looking forward to getting back to some serious boardroom thinking, nothing physical just good and thorough cerebellum exercise.”
“But isn’t that nice?” asked Mrs Norbitt. “I mean, to finish a vacation and to be looking forward again to work…”
Her husband shook his head again. “And do you know what? When I was in there, in that… thing, I found a message, for me personally, from 88, would you believe?” His hands flew up in exasperation. “And you know what the damn thing said?”
“How could I possibly”-
“It said, “Dear Mr Norbitt, thank you very much for this opportunity. I have hoped for just such a break for the longest time, so long that I can honestly describe it as a dream vacation"” Mr Norbitt spluttered for a while. He had no words left until the drink was nearly finished and he realized that his wife was still standing there. He gathered himself, as a man should, to ask politely,”And how was it for you?”
Mrs Norbitt smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Oh it was simply marvelous,” she sighed. She waved her comptwand airily and with a steady rolling movement Unit88 moved from the transfer chamber and headed swiftly for the garden.
The end
……………………………
thanks to the good doc nyman - helpful feedback and i hope this shows that it's been useful! :))
Mrs Norbitt always looked forward to the holidays. Two weeks dedicated to the pursuit of rest, hang work, hang the chores, feet up and fingers curled round a decently fortified iced tea. She could look forward to chatting with friends - or ignoring them all together. There would be the fun of lazy meals cooked at scrappy times or even ordered in, and of course there would be restaurants. Maybe even the theater, oh it had been so long that it was a definite effort to recall when last they, the Norbitt’s of Inchwood Heights, had taken to the town. Mrs Norbitt had flounced to her hearts content in a new dress and fresh heels before sitting in the seats (somewhat uncomfortable, truth be told) of the Grand Theater to catch the latest show. And in the holidays there was always a real buzz, everyone getting a kick from it, no surreptitious snoozing in the dark.
And wasn’t everyone the better for it? Faces would shine and eyes glitter on those occasions that, clad in a soft robe and favorite house slippers, neighbors would bump into one another or wave from windows to a smiling family raucously squashing themselves into the family automobile or an impatiently waiting taxi to be whisked off to parts unknown - unknown to Mrs Norbitt at least until the postcards started rolling in. There would be a flush to every cheek; women would lock gazes, woman to woman, for the briefest instant - for an instant would be all that was necessary to KNOW:
Last night was a good night then?
Oh my dear, yes! And in the afternoon too!
Oh how absolutely shocking - and how marvelous!
Yes, you know I woke up this morning and there was a rose on my pillow!
So romantic!
Isn’t it though - and just about the only time of year when it wouldn’t have me immediately planning how to poison his secretary!
Ha, ha, ha!
And of course it was good for the men-folk too. Two weeks away from the smoky pressures of the boardroom or the office, a whole vacation in which to engage in tasks entirely different from the brow furrowing complexities of business. A chance to give the over taxed mind a well deserved rest and no talk of difficult decisions to be made, deadlines looming, plans in the offing, or of juggling annuities or stocks and bonds, taxes, profit margins and all the other strange things to which a husband would so often allude.
So yes, all in all Mrs Norbitt was looking forward to the holidays, looking forward to them very much indeed. Of course, there were all the necessary preparations first, a thousand and one minor domestic details in case of an unexpected variance in the weather (though the Bureau could be relied upon more and more these days) or if there was to be a long trip away, or a day picnicking or - well, goodness knew, half the fun was trying to second guess the surprising delights ahead - and in so often being wrong. This was a genuine pleasure compared to the routines of normal daily life, not that Mrs Norbitt didn’t appreciate order and organization, no, no, far from it, but all the same, for the two weeks of summer break, the unexpected was as welcome as a songbird on the apple tree. Hampers had to be unearthed, cloths and cutlery and tuppaware cleaned and readied, jellies and preserves and spreads purchased and stocked (along with a good supply of drinks), fishing rods cleaned, towels laundered, bug sprays, sticking plasters, iodine - gosh, a whole heap of tasks. Standing in the sun and its reflected gleam and surveying the kitchen and the wall mounted notes and lists, Mrs Norbitt took a moment to ponder the blessing of helpmates. “Oh I’d be quite lost without them!” she’d exclaimed in the past and on more than one occasion, and even as her husband demurred she would explain at length to friends or dinner guests (those rare occasions) just why and how she was fortunate that the house contained a full retinue of serving machines - quite apart from the especial needs of the vacation period.
Standing there, she smiled down at just such a one, DomUnit1234asc the ever attentive vacuum and disposal machine. So vital. She leaned forward making a pretty ‘Oh’ with her mouth and patted the faithful machines silver chrome head. Her fingers danced lightly, a sort of thrill running up her arm, static no doubt, quite common really in the summer, especially if she was, like today, wearing her nylons. Reaching into the side pocket of her pinafore, Mrs Norbitt drew out a colored punch-card and slipped it into the Units top slot with familiar ease. There was a whir and a click as the new set of instructions were processed and then the unit moved off towards the hall at the front of the house to begin vacuuming. Mrs Norbitt meantime opened the back door and with a stubby comptwand summed one of the garden units. Unit GS88a heard the call and promptly skittered across the front lawn and up to her. Yes, she thought, looking down at the burly machine, 88 was quite the right choice, it had been in the household longer than most and apart from the domestic labors of fixing linoleum floors or presenting the Norbitts with a hot towel as they stepped from the shower, it actually lead quite an exciting life by the standards of many machines; chasing unwelcome stray dogs, catching rats and other pests, making repairs to the wooden fences out front and so forth.
Mrs Norbitt did worry slightly that the machines days might be a little TOO exciting. Only last week the household had lost 88b to a cunningly devised pit-trap laid by Sammy along with the neighbors' boys. But Mr Norbitt had told her not to worry and he was right, she knew that, after all Sammy was spending the two weeks at camp and the boys next door were visiting a maiden aunt in the country somewhere. And Mrs Norbitt had to admit, as she took a duster and buffed up the Units aluminum front-piece and the steel dome that protected the electronic brain, she had always had a certain fondness for little 88a. The hardworking machine seemed to register the fact too, always buzzing and purring when she was around, though that could be a womans' over active imagination, Mrs Norbitt had read about such things. She was smiling anyway as she said, “So 88a, ready for your vacation?”
……………..
Two weeks later Mr Norbitt regarded the smiling face of his wife as she stood in front of him and the mind-transfer chamber. She handed him a drink as she asked cheerily, “So, darling, did you have a nice vacation?”
“Hell no!” Mr Norbitt growled, and his profanity made his wife start. “It was a war-zone! That was it, yes - it was like being at the Front!”
“Oh dear,” Mrs Norbitt replied finally, her voice sounded huskier than her husband remembered, “Only surely it was quite so bad?”
Mr Norbitt growled again. “You can’t know until you’ve been chased by spiders, gone into a wasp’s nest on purpose and fought them and “- he stopped, took a shuddering breath and a good slug of the drink in his hand. “I can you this - I’m looking forward to getting back to some serious boardroom thinking, nothing physical just good and thorough cerebellum exercise.”
“But isn’t that nice?” asked Mrs Norbitt. “I mean, to finish a vacation and to be looking forward again to work…”
Her husband shook his head again. “And do you know what? When I was in there, in that… thing, I found a message, for me personally, from 88, would you believe?” His hands flew up in exasperation. “And you know what the damn thing said?”
“How could I possibly”-
“It said, “Dear Mr Norbitt, thank you very much for this opportunity. I have hoped for just such a break for the longest time, so long that I can honestly describe it as a dream vacation"” Mr Norbitt spluttered for a while. He had no words left until the drink was nearly finished and he realized that his wife was still standing there. He gathered himself, as a man should, to ask politely,”And how was it for you?”
Mrs Norbitt smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Oh it was simply marvelous,” she sighed. She waved her comptwand airily and with a steady rolling movement Unit88 moved from the transfer chamber and headed swiftly for the garden.
The end
……………………………
thanks to the good doc nyman - helpful feedback and i hope this shows that it's been useful! :))