The Warbler

by Sarah Beth Durst

Ugh, I don’t care. Why did it matter if the house sparkled and the lawn matched home-and-garden magazines? It seemed to matter to other people so very much. She hated those pursed-lip looks when she didn’t pull the trash bins back right after the garbage trucks rumbled through. She hated the mix of pity and disapproval in her in-laws’ eyes and, worse, her parents’ if Lori left the contents of her backpack strewn on the couch or Rose hadn’t finished scrubbing a pot. Of course, they never warned her they were coming, no matter how many times she asked. And of course, they’d never blame Glenn. He couldn’t be expected to worry about the house when he had his job, even though he worked nine to six and the housework was nonstop, even though he had two hands and weekends free, even though he had time to bowl with the boys on Thursdays and meet at the coffee shop on Saturdays and watch the game in someone’s backyard on Sundays—there was always a game. She didn’t know why they even needed a house this size. Three bathrooms for three people when Glenn was at work and Lori was at school most of the time? Couldn’t someone just wait their turn? Also, why a lawn? Why did lawns exist at all? There was no point to growing a plant just so you could lop it off once a week so it looked like a carpet. So what if it had a few dandelions? Dandelions were bright and cheery! So what if there wasn’t a thick mat of mulch in the flower beds? Mulch smelled like manure anyway. Most importantly, why di...