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A Day In The Life Of A Widow – What It’s Like When You Got Important Things To Do

Today is Saturday. It’s 5:00 p.m. I have no idea where my day went. Seems like I just got out of bed ten minutes ago, and instead of shuffling to the driveway in my fluffy white slippers and bathrobe, to fetch the daily paper, brew a pot of coffee, and sit, I did THINGS, instead.

THINGS. You know, The “stuff” that must get done before you get to sit and read, sit and sip black coffee, sit and type, sit and write!

These are the THINGS this widow did today:

I folded laundry — 4 bath towels, 4 hand towels, 4 face cloths. If there is a bennie to being a widow and living by myself, folding laundry for one person scores big.

I ironed. I figured it was time to give the table all my summer whites were piled on top of a rest before the legs caved in. I would like to wear my 6 pairs of wrinkled white shorts, my 2 pairs of crumpled white slacks, my 14 white tank tops, and my 20 pairs of white tennis socks before Labor Day. What can I say? I’m a traditional widow. Blame it on my mother. Sorry, Ma. And, that’s an article for another day.

I made my bed. Because when I don’t, I hear voices. Yes, I hear dead people. Usually, it’s the voice of my mother reminding me to clean my room, make my bed. Like I said, we’ll save that for another time.

I made a bank deposit. A person would think I had a bazillion dollars the amount of time it takes me to do that bank deposit thing. Probably the reason why it takes me so long to get this chore out of the way is because I am terrible at math and the other possibility, I have no money to deposit. Making a bank deposit requires the following: I must hunt down a deposit slip, a deposit envelope, the plastic card to make the deposit. Organization was my husband‘s strong suit, not mine. And I can’t blame that one on my mother, though I wish I could. Are we sensing a pattern here?

For this widow, locating a deposit slip, a deposit envelope, and the plastic card to make the deposit with is like hunting down Osama Bin Laden. One more THING, before I forget. Why do they call it a drive-in window? The closer this widow gets to that drive-in window, the better able she is to rip the side view mirror off her car. I call it the drive-get-out-of-car-walk-in-window, instead. And, ouch, it hurts when I bang my elbow into it.

I have more IMPORTANT THINGS to do today. Incredibly Mountain Piled Other Related Things Already Not Tackled THINGS. But that’s an article for another time. And you will have to wait. Because I have to ask my mother.

You have permission to contact Linda Della Donna at and request a copy of her free ebook, Treasury of Quotations, For Widows Only. Be sure to read Linda Della Donna’s blog,

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