I just did the math today. If we subtract the three or four days that are not consistent with the pattern, it has been three months straight now that at least one member of this household (present company included) has needed medical attention and/or close care. Hmm. The first time around I wrote it “househole”. Not necessarily wrong.
September 1st came and passed – Yiftah started daycare, and was received really well. And yet he’s been at home more than he’s been there… I know that’s just the way things go, but it is immensely frustrating. Here I was thinking that come September I would have the time to actually take care of my obligations – translation, housework, maybe start selling handcrafts. Tal and I took the time to sit down and plan every single day of September to help me keep on target and achieve my goals. For some strange reason, I won’t take that schedule down, and instead it sits there on the fridge, taunting me with the memory of the exact reason for every single day of being sidetracked there.
And yet, I am trying to get more done. It isn’t necessarily working, but I am taking on more work (and then going into panic attacks about how I’m not meeting my deadlines), I am trying to get more housework done (and then totally freaking out about how the laundry smells awful because it sat too long either in the machine or on the line), and I’ve just opened my Etsy store (no freaking out there, yet – I’m sure the opportunity will present itself soon enough). I’m trying frantically to wipe out my list of things long overdue, like certain giveaways that haven’t been handed out yet, or my swap record of late which should have me not only banned but preferably dangling from my feet off of the highest branch of swaptree. I keep planning how I’m going to finish it all in a day or two of focused attention, and then somebody’s fever goes up and I see it all getting pushed even farther away.
I do constantly remember that my life is the result of my own choices, and pretty much how I was hoping for it to be at this point, and yet, I still often just feel like I’ve had this sentence of eternal servitude to the gods of unscheduled emergencies thrust upon me, without any kind of fair trial.
Now, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have for a long-winded kvetch. I would really like to share what’s up with my craftiness as of late, but: a. I don’t have the time to embugger myself with taking pictures and resizing them and uploading them and what have you; and b. my knitting needles have been producing such a spectacular amount of FAIL lately that I would just rather keep it to myself. Let’s just say my endeavor to replace all of my store-bought socks with handknits might be a bit lengthier than I had initially planned.
All in keeping with the general gist of things. Gotta be keeping to something, right?