Why is it, when life speeds up around here, I fall even further behind?
I have this bad habit of deluding myself into thinking that when one bad thing ends, everything else is just going to magically get better. With the end of the year-long litigation behind me, and over, I deluded myself into thinking I'd somehow pick up the slack again and get with it and get things done around the house, have more time to spend writing about things that matter to me, spend more time visiting bloggers and writers that mean so much to me and start leaving comments again?
I haven't managed to get any of the things listed above, done, or anything around the house.
Instead, with that one nasty chapter in my life closing, I came down with the mother of all flu's which turned into pneumonia, strep throat and a dual ear infection and now that all that has finally cleared up, I'm just sitting here treading water.
I have at least (and I wish I was joking, but alas, I'm not) 7 loads of laundry that need to be done, floors that need to be mopped, windows that need to be cleaned, bills that need to be paid, long dead flowers removed from the vase they've been occupying for a week longer than they should have, toilets that need to be scrubbed, cats to be furminated, and a nervous breakdown I need to fit in between it all.
Oh, and I totally forgot that this morning we have someone coming to measure for new windows (that we are probably going to be putting off, until next fall at this point but I don't have the heart to call and cancel...again!), and two separate flooring contractors coming to measure and give us estimates today. The old 80's linoleum in the kitchen and dining area is coming up and whilst I know this is something that absolutely must be taken care of, I really could care less if it ever does get removed. I dread the thought of having people trample all over the house - men in particular, making an even bigger mess. The painter is supposed to start on Wednesday but I'm going to reschedule him because frankly, the merry-go-round needs to slow down for a little while so I can get the hell off and catch my friggin' breath!
I should be vacuuming and moving things around so that the window guy can get to the windows to measure, but instead, I'm sitting here on my ass, ignoring the shitload of stuff that needs to be done.
Instead I want to catch up with MckMama and see how Stellan is doing.
I want to waste countless hours over at one of my favourite humour bloggers, Nikki at Blah Blah Blah Blog and check in on her and her darling doggies.
I'd really rather visit each and every blog on my blogroll and let you all know I'm reading and was there.
I want to curl back up in bed and finish the two James Patterson books I recently started, as well as another one called Stop Dressing Your 6 Year Old Like a Skank...although don't ask me who the author is because I can't recall. Amazon recommended it and being the easy mark I am, I bought it.
I'd rather go get the Little Imp and take her out of Montessori and read with her all day, make cup cakes and chase the cats and dogs with her, than listen to someone tell me how much per square foot new flooring is going to cost and how we'll get a huge tax credit if we get the replacement windows we so badly want and need yet can't afford.
This bitchy, whiny rant has been brought to you by the letter B...which stands for Bounce dryer sheets, which I found out I am allergic to. I itch just about everywhere. But hell, my clothes have ceased trying to electrocute me (static much?), and they smell good, and God forbid my clothes don't smell good. I used to think all that mattered was having clean clothing. Somewhere along the line I decided, along with the makers of all this shit, that they needed to smell outdoor fresh too! But ya know? They don't smell like the outdoors on a sunny day with a slight westerly breeze...they smell like a Goddamned Bath and Body Works shoppe.
There are a million other things I'd rather be doing right now (including slathering myself in cortizone cream), but
instead I'm going to pop a couple of Xanax, hop back on the
merry-go-round, pull up my big girl panties and just get on with it.
