(Excuse the rant, but I'm entitled, once in a while. Or if you want to put it a different way: I'm entitled so once in a while I rant. Yes, first world problems. I understand. Skip the emails, seriously. I get it.)
Frustrated and slightly overwhelmed as I watch my to-do list pile up and I have taken to hard slashing, cancelling everything I can cancel, trying to group errands, getting things done early or strategically putting them off and generally trying to put myself in everyone else's shoes so I don't rip their heads off.
I drove for two hours last night in the pouring rain of an inky black night only to arrive downtown, thinking I was off the hook for driving for the weekend only to realize it's Saturday and what a gift it would be if I could get a few things done today to make the week ahead easier. Plus, Henry abruptly needs something and I have to go out anyway. But where we live you don't go out for one thing (unless it's food). You go out for a few hours and do everything while you're there, because it's a hell of a drive home.
I'm sure they chose this remote place because it is most like home. And yes. It is in a way. If you squint and make everything super blurry and way smaller. And the shopping matches, because there isn't any here either, and what should be a twenty minute drive to the shopping centre has never taken a mere twenty minutes. More like forty-five. Each way. Which isn't bad per say but I make that drive multiple times a day sometimes and this time of year, between the weather and the Christmas rush, it's particularly awful.
But I got Henry's shoes, the new security lights for outside (three of them have failed in the past month. I guess their life expectancy is seven years), and mailed all of the parcels that are going home. So I felt better making that drive home, knowing I've just saved what would have been half of Tuesday, freeing me up to do other things.
Like get ready for Christmas. It's a battle not to constantly feel overwhelmed but I somehow do. Yes, I have help. Yes, I have a list and a plan. Yes, I have the means. Yes, I started in September. But in my rush to make the season perfect the only part that isn't is me and I don't know how to fix that either. I wish it would snow but only Christmas weekend. I wish I could not have chores, but chores wait for no one. I wish I could cook better. That's so dumb but it's true. The thought of dealing with a turkey again makes me tired. Also slightly grossed out because I only stopped being a vegetarian eighteen years ago and I still can't figure out bones.
I want to sit by the fire and drink whiskey and read a good book. I want to listen to Christmas music but the IHeartRadio app scares me and I'm bored of my own supply of Christmas music that I own, or that Ben has sung, sometimes with me. It's a little disconcerting to be singing along only to hear your own voice out of the blue over the stereo. I want Lochlan to have some time off (yeah somehow Schuyler and Batman both have him booked up. He was going to retire. Except, true to Loch, he can't sit still. Maybe this is a good thing?). I miss him though.
I want to walk in the woods and sleep in, eat brunch and watch holiday movies. I want to stop moving. I could. Boy, could I ever. There just never seems to be any time left over. Everything is so fleeting and then we're up and off once more. Tomorrow Ruth will need some obscure art supplies and we'll run out of orange juice and John or PJ will need a watch/pair of boots/truck picked up and I'll be up there on the highway again.
I'm starting to hate that road, but it runs East, and for some reason that makes it okay. At least every time I leave my house, I'm one step closer to home.
My world is changingI woke up like this.
I'm rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes too?
Frustrated and slightly overwhelmed as I watch my to-do list pile up and I have taken to hard slashing, cancelling everything I can cancel, trying to group errands, getting things done early or strategically putting them off and generally trying to put myself in everyone else's shoes so I don't rip their heads off.
I drove for two hours last night in the pouring rain of an inky black night only to arrive downtown, thinking I was off the hook for driving for the weekend only to realize it's Saturday and what a gift it would be if I could get a few things done today to make the week ahead easier. Plus, Henry abruptly needs something and I have to go out anyway. But where we live you don't go out for one thing (unless it's food). You go out for a few hours and do everything while you're there, because it's a hell of a drive home.
I'm sure they chose this remote place because it is most like home. And yes. It is in a way. If you squint and make everything super blurry and way smaller. And the shopping matches, because there isn't any here either, and what should be a twenty minute drive to the shopping centre has never taken a mere twenty minutes. More like forty-five. Each way. Which isn't bad per say but I make that drive multiple times a day sometimes and this time of year, between the weather and the Christmas rush, it's particularly awful.
But I got Henry's shoes, the new security lights for outside (three of them have failed in the past month. I guess their life expectancy is seven years), and mailed all of the parcels that are going home. So I felt better making that drive home, knowing I've just saved what would have been half of Tuesday, freeing me up to do other things.
Like get ready for Christmas. It's a battle not to constantly feel overwhelmed but I somehow do. Yes, I have help. Yes, I have a list and a plan. Yes, I have the means. Yes, I started in September. But in my rush to make the season perfect the only part that isn't is me and I don't know how to fix that either. I wish it would snow but only Christmas weekend. I wish I could not have chores, but chores wait for no one. I wish I could cook better. That's so dumb but it's true. The thought of dealing with a turkey again makes me tired. Also slightly grossed out because I only stopped being a vegetarian eighteen years ago and I still can't figure out bones.
I want to sit by the fire and drink whiskey and read a good book. I want to listen to Christmas music but the IHeartRadio app scares me and I'm bored of my own supply of Christmas music that I own, or that Ben has sung, sometimes with me. It's a little disconcerting to be singing along only to hear your own voice out of the blue over the stereo. I want Lochlan to have some time off (yeah somehow Schuyler and Batman both have him booked up. He was going to retire. Except, true to Loch, he can't sit still. Maybe this is a good thing?). I miss him though.
I want to walk in the woods and sleep in, eat brunch and watch holiday movies. I want to stop moving. I could. Boy, could I ever. There just never seems to be any time left over. Everything is so fleeting and then we're up and off once more. Tomorrow Ruth will need some obscure art supplies and we'll run out of orange juice and John or PJ will need a watch/pair of boots/truck picked up and I'll be up there on the highway again.
I'm starting to hate that road, but it runs East, and for some reason that makes it okay. At least every time I leave my house, I'm one step closer to home.