Life seemed full of missteps. If only she could undo them

Deena surveyed the room tiredly. Clearing the mess felt like wading through a never-ending wave pool in a water park, but not in a fun way. She kicked the kids’ shoes to the side, wondering if she should hide them somewhere so the kids would finally learn. The thought of bending down to pick up the footwear, however, deterred her. It was easier to leave them where they were. Tomorrow. She’d deal with the mess tomorrow.

It was past two in the morning, and the baby was going to wake up for a feeding in the next 15 minutes, but 15 minutes counted. She dozed off, woke up with the baby, fell asleep again, fed the baby again, and then it was morning.

“I don’t see why not,” Deena chirped cheerily into the receiver. “We can definitely upgrade your ticket. And, of course, we’ll be glad to honor the voucher. There’s a surcharge, but don’t worry, it’s worth every penny.”

Mr. Ludmir would be proud of her. She’d handled 22 emails and three phone calls, and it wasn’t even 9 a.m. yet.

The fact that her children had gone to school without their hair brushed, and that two lunches had stayed on the counter wouldn’t bother Mr. Ludmir at all, she was sure. The question was, did it bother her?

She tried not to trip over the toys littering the floor as she stumbled into the kitchen for a coffee refill at eleven. The peels from yesterday’s potatoes were still on the counter, and she made a half-hearted attempt to get them into the overflowing garbage can. Stella was coming tomorrow; she’d deal with it.

Was this the work-from-home ideal that everyone admired? For some reason, all the work-from-offices people she knew actually seemed to be functioning. They had systems for the morning and organized plans for the evenings. If they left the beds unmade or the dishes in the sink, at least they had six or seven hours a day when they didn’t see them.

Deena, however, saw the mayhem, and could do nothing about it. When Mr. Ludmir had decided she’d start working from home, he’d acted as if it was a favor. She’d bought it, too, thinking of the loads she’d put in while she waited on hold for different airlines, of the dishes she’d wash while she typed.

Did she think she’d suddenly turn into two people?

If working from the office had been too much, it was the working part, not the office part, that needed to go.

Mr. Ludmir now felt comfortable reaching out to her at all hours, confident that she had access to any and all information he needed within her little home office. Ha! If only he’d know that it was the dining room table that tripled as her laundry station and work surface.

The phone rang again, and she mindlessly wiped the coffee that had sloshed out with a paper, before realizing that she’d used a customer’s reservation printout, and would need to reprint it.

Then it was four, and the frozen French fries she’d put in to bake weren’t ready, and the kids were starving. They noshed on snacks instead of supper, were hungry at eight, and wouldn’t go to bed. All while she handled an email from an irate customer who had stood at the wrong airline’s desk and had missed his flight. Somehow, she got him on the next flight.

By eleven thirty the baby was settled and Yosef was ready to call it a night.

“A few more minutes,” she said. “I just want to make sure that tomorrow’s early check-ins are fine, and I’m coming.”

She missed his knowing sigh, concentrating on the text that appeared on the screen.

Priceline was offering a short-term sale on business-class tickets to the UK. She’d reserve a few; they’d come in handy.

The Excel chart of incoming and outgoing funds wasn’t matching up. Was it a typo, or was there an error in her formula? It had been fine this morning. She stared at the tiny numbers on the screen tiredly, her vision blurring.

She hit Ctrl Z.

Still no good.

Undo again.

She’d redo it soon, correctly. First, she needed to find her error.

Ctrl Z. Undo, undo, undo.

There it was, in cell C6, a plus sign instead of a minus.

Thank goodness.

She put her head in her hands, exhausted. If only her life could be fixed as easily.