Where, oh WHERE does the time go? Why does it seem like I’m running in place, filling the hours between the job and the bed to the brim, but accomplishing nothing? Why does it seem like I’m merely putting out fires instead of checking off lists. I swear, sometimes I think my life just rolls along whether I’m actively participating in it or not. I have this nagging sense of loss of control, and I don’t necessarily like it
My poor painting sits in the sunroom, half finished waiting to turn into something instead of blotches of nothing. My junkmail piles up in a passive-aggressive kind of way, not really demanding attention, but not exactly settling for being ignored, either. My dog looks up at me and says, “Why don’t we go on walks anymore? Remember walks? They’re so fun!” And the projects conceived in my brain are getting backed up; it’s like a traffic jam of ideas and potential, being held up by…what? Time, I guess. Or a lack thereof.
Between work and commuting and meals and the gym and my need for excessive amounts of sleep (9 hours, kthanxbye) and an insatiable appetite for quality time with the boyfriend, it seems like there’s very little time left for stuff. There’s a constant tug-of-war going on in my head these days:
My poor painting sits in the sunroom, half finished waiting to turn into something instead of blotches of nothing. My junkmail piles up in a passive-aggressive kind of way, not really demanding attention, but not exactly settling for being ignored, either. My dog looks up at me and says, “Why don’t we go on walks anymore? Remember walks? They’re so fun!” And the projects conceived in my brain are getting backed up; it’s like a traffic jam of ideas and potential, being held up by…what? Time, I guess. Or a lack thereof.
Between work and commuting and meals and the gym and my need for excessive amounts of sleep (9 hours, kthanxbye) and an insatiable appetite for quality time with the boyfriend, it seems like there’s very little time left for stuff. There’s a constant tug-of-war going on in my head these days:
“Do the dishes or read a book”
“Sweep the floor or cuddle with the dog”
“Sweep the floor or cuddle with the dog”
“Go to the gym or finish painting the basement”
“Fold the laundry or watch an hour of TV”
And if Brian and I are home together, it’s like life stops completely. I know that’s not really a rational way to go about day-to-day living, but god help me, if he’s around, chances are I’ll be up his ass. Can’t help it – I love the guy. We could be watching paint dry (actually, that’s exactly what we did last night), and as long as we’re together, I’m having a blast. Great for my happiness; not so good for dishes that are piling up in the kitchen sink. Meh.
I was hoping that after the holidays, things would settle down a bit. Granted, the great “Basement Flood of ‘08” has demanded more time and attention that we would have ever though possible (who knew concrete walls required not one, not two, but THREE freaking coats of paint to look uniformly white?!?). And granted, of late, precious weekends have spent in the pursuit of all things fun rather than getting around to organizing the bathroom closet. But c’mon people! You only live once! And snowboarding is really fun!
Well, I fear I’m paying for these adventures with a messy house, a rammy dog, and a pile of laundry that probably requires its own zipcode. And I think I’m going to have to learn to be okay with that, because until scientists figure out a way to cram a few more hours in the day, my time will be limited to working, eating, driving, snuggling with my man, and attempting to get my heart-rate up to 165 bpm. And if I happen to have the luxury of an entire day off with Brian, then adventures will be pursued, no matter what the cost. I guess it’s just all about priorities. My floor may be covered in animal hair, and I may be running out of clean dishes, but come Monday, I’ll probably have a pretty cool story to tell. Just try to ignore my wrinkled clothes.
“Fold the laundry or watch an hour of TV”
And if Brian and I are home together, it’s like life stops completely. I know that’s not really a rational way to go about day-to-day living, but god help me, if he’s around, chances are I’ll be up his ass. Can’t help it – I love the guy. We could be watching paint dry (actually, that’s exactly what we did last night), and as long as we’re together, I’m having a blast. Great for my happiness; not so good for dishes that are piling up in the kitchen sink. Meh.
I was hoping that after the holidays, things would settle down a bit. Granted, the great “Basement Flood of ‘08” has demanded more time and attention that we would have ever though possible (who knew concrete walls required not one, not two, but THREE freaking coats of paint to look uniformly white?!?). And granted, of late, precious weekends have spent in the pursuit of all things fun rather than getting around to organizing the bathroom closet. But c’mon people! You only live once! And snowboarding is really fun!
Well, I fear I’m paying for these adventures with a messy house, a rammy dog, and a pile of laundry that probably requires its own zipcode. And I think I’m going to have to learn to be okay with that, because until scientists figure out a way to cram a few more hours in the day, my time will be limited to working, eating, driving, snuggling with my man, and attempting to get my heart-rate up to 165 bpm. And if I happen to have the luxury of an entire day off with Brian, then adventures will be pursued, no matter what the cost. I guess it’s just all about priorities. My floor may be covered in animal hair, and I may be running out of clean dishes, but come Monday, I’ll probably have a pretty cool story to tell. Just try to ignore my wrinkled clothes.
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