I am finally done with my long stent at work, well, temporarily at least. The busyness starts up again in July for a final month. The reward is bills paid off, less money owed. I confess it's difficult to get excited about paying bills, rather than, say, a trip to Europe. But it is what it is.
This extra work has taken a toll on me and on this house. Things are a mess. I've not had the energy to clean. I've not had energy period. All I want to do is sleep, eat and read. In the meantime the weeds are growing, the laundry is multiplying and dishes may be breeding penicillin.
Where is the woman who took pictures? Who found the time to sew and knit? Who planned and cooked meals? Who gardened? Who wrote? She is quite clearly MIA.
When I leave the house I cringe; we are not keeping up with the Joneses. When I enter the house I cringe -- what if the Joneses come over here?
It's all too easy to feel inadequate. To feel defeated. As much as I know in my head I can't do it all; my heart feels as if I should. I *should* bring home the bacon and care for and maintain the house. I should exercise, have gorgeous hair and delicate painted toe nails. I should help my kids with their homework and tuck them in at night.
I should, I should, I should ... and yet. I don't. I can't and I won't.
After Thursday I have a week off. I plan to putter and kick back and putter some more. With rest I suspect I'll find my equilibrium and get my mojo back. In the meantime bear with me and my Eeyorish self.
"The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about."