There are 263 items in my email inbox, not counting those items which are linked together in one long Conga-line. My head aches because I need to eat and imbibe some caffeine. I haven’t even considered the urgency of the laundry pile. The Crock-Pot is full of shredded roast beef, but no sauce. The younger children are home from school already–the first of many half-days–but the teenagers didn’t drag their bodies from bed until after 11:00 a.m., so they are in the thick of schoolwork.
I have a cluttery pile of stuff near my desk, writing materials, items I’ve reviewed, a mini-library of diet books, old magazines, a “Tammy’s Family” doll from the 1950s or 1960s that someone gave my daughter at a garage sale, a couple of leather bags, and a few random toys . . . and I should deal with all this. I should also put all the sheet music back into the piano bench which I repaired a month or two ago. And I should hang up the curtain rods and new curtains in the kids’ bedrooms upstairs. (This will involve a power drill and a level and I can’t bear the thought today.)
On Saturday, I must attend a baby shower. Sunday is church, plus a funeral in the late afternoon.
At the moment, all these competing demands on my time and attention blast me like a fire hose. Run! Run away!