My life is like interlocking blocks in a Tetris game . . . all flipped and rotated just to pack more in.
I need some breathing space. Some margin.
I don’t even have a hem I could let out at this point.
When I woke up this morning in a rush to get the kids to VBS, I told myself I could take a nap after I delivered them. Instead, I cleaned and did some laundry and then it was time to pick them up again, so I could return home just in the nick of time for my phone conference and four hours of work.
My husband called during my work shift and said he’d take our daughter to the pool and our son to football so I could have three hours to myself. What did I choose to do? Shop? Walk? Drive around aimlessly?
No. I took a nap.
When I woke up, four more hours of work. Half an hour of pointless computer wandering and now, to bed, only to get up early to take the kids to VBS. And what will I pack into the two and a half hours of time I’ll have in the morning? A MILLION LITTLE PIECES. That’s what.