Gah.
If I were an animal I think that would be the sound I would make right now.
Just Gah. Over and over.
One sure way to have a flop of a weekend is to make a To Do list 2 pages long. With nothing fun on it. And no scheduled breaks or room for reality related to the actual hours available in each given day. And then get super pissy at self and family because every little thing will feel like an interruption from the list. GAH.
***
I had a friend tell me once he felt like another piece of the furniture in the house when it came to his wife (assuming he meant attention). Ouch. I didn't know what to say. Until I realized sometimes the people in my house become furniture to me. People to care for or be near instead of enjoying. That's what happens when my expectations on my task list are more demanding than they should be.
I know we do this because our work is never done. There is never (seemingly to me) a moment when every inch is vaccuumed, every dish clean, and every article of clothing washed and put away, every belly filled, every cheek wiped, every project completed, every call returned, every email answered, every teaching moment seized, every object dusted, every paper filed. Spinning in the back of our heads are all the frivilous thing that would be nice to do, enjoyable outlets we would love to 'get to next' or dates to plan or trips to make out of town. We hardly feel we can get to a place when all is done so we can rest our minds from thinking about what is undone. Or letting the world slow down because who else is going to think of all! the! things! that! need! to! be! done! It's like living in a spreadsheet where all the numbers are the square root of an irrational number. But we are all waiting for it to be a perfect square, like 25.
So gah. Furniture Family. Or what I call roommate syndrom. It doesn't work for me, it's got to be different. I've got to take the irrational number and round up the way we learned to in grade school.
