Photo: Part of the wall on the left side of this photo is coming down today, I think. In all of my pain and stress, I can’t wait to visit the house this weekend and see this wall opened up. The house is going to feel so much more open!! Pictures, hopefully, Friday or Monday.
Let me paint you a picture:
I am sitting in this chair with fairly fantastic back pain for the fourth day in a row. I am sipping on my first cup of coffee for the day (it’s 2:15 est) and I just ate a way-too-salty grilled cheese sandwich. My hair is up in what can only be described as a “messy” bun gone totally wrong, with locs hanging out every which way. My shoulders and neck are tight and angry in my new fun tension-headache thing that I do now. MSNBC is on in front of me, but I’m not paying attention. My front door is open because I’m expecting the UPS man to show up with many packages. I’m looking at a living room that I’ve cleaned twice today already but still has toys, newspapers, pillows and sandwich remnants on the floor. I’m pretty sure I just heard Ursa Major kick the wall upstairs, which means that he isn’t sleeping.
Sometimes, you neither look good nor feel good, ya’ll.
Let’s talk about what I have done:
I scrubbed two bathrooms and an oven. I cleaned the sheets and made up the nursery. I sent out countless emails, chose a stove, dishwasher, countertop and medicine cabinet, I cleaned my kitchen and my living room (and although I was able to sweep, I never managed to mop or vacuum).
That’s a lot, right? I feel like that’s not enough, though, you know?
Here is what I still need to do:
1000 words of fiction, finish this blog post, call my cable company and tell them we’re moving (and schedule an install at the house), make dinner (I’m craving comfort food, so we’re having curry chicken tonight), bake cookies for preschool tomorrow… and, I don’t know, I feel like there are other tasks in there that I am missing.
The clock keeps ticking and I keep grinding, but Lord, if this year has been a marathon, I feel like the finish line is atop a cruelly steep hill. I keep taking the steps forward, but my legs are turning to lead and I’m still tired from all of the running I’ve been doing already. My husband and I crawled into bed last night at 11 after going through our storage room, securing and relabeling partially- or never-unpacked boxes. As much as I swore up and down this morning that we’d be going to bed at a “reasonable hour” tonight, I know that we’ll be doing it again. This really isn’t sustainable, even if it is only for a month.
Right? It isn’t sustainable? I mean, just because you are physically capable of doing something (though I’m not so sure that we are) doesn’t mean that you should actually do it, right?
I’m now on my second cup of coffee.
This is the part of the story where I really should be asking for help. The problem is that there isn’t much that anyone else can do for us. I’m not going to have someone pack our stuff for us. No one can clean my house for me. Babysitting wouldn’t necessarily be helpful, especially because the boys would be here (and thus, in the way). As much as I’d love to put out an SOS, I see no solutions. It’s just me and The Husband and some perseverance…
I know that I have no right to complain. I am extraordinarily lucky and privileged. My labors and pains at the moment are going toward a wonderful end.
Did you know that I passed the 1-year anniversary of this blog on the 2nd!? I can’t even believe it! One year of blogging thanks to good advice. I have said it many times, and it is true all the same: This year has been so much better because I’ve been able to share it with you. Thanks for tuning in!
Another short post because I feel like I’m bitching and moaning and not being grateful. I also want to sneak this phone call in before I get to chopping and getting this chicken in the pan. Maybe I’ll take a moment to get my hair under control and rearrange this living room for a third time. Or maybe I’ll try to bang out a 1000 words instead? Yeah… let’s do that. 1000 words of fiction, chicken in pan, then phone call. If I’m really good, I’ll get this cookie dough put together so that I can bake tonight. That might require a third cup of coffee to pull off, though.
Will I have quiet thoughts on Friday or will I be screaming (in pain or frustration or both)? I guess we’ll find out together. See you then!