There seems to be a fine line of what exactly I can accomplish in a day. Will I focus on working and actually making some money? Will I unpack boxes and locate all the random things we have been missing? Will I get my ass out and move it at some sort of an uphill grade in order to diminish its size? Or will I hide in the closet and pretend that I don’t have three offspring that demand my constant attention in one way or another? These are the questions that plague me on a daily basis, and frankly, I never know how to answers most of them.
Today I worked during the morning while Devon was in preschool. Those 12 glorious hours distributed among three days during the week are too precious to waste on ramance novels, so I feel compelled to churn out some work during them. But once I picked him up and brought him home for a nap I lost all motivation to be a better person. While he napped I surfed and chatted with my friends inside the computer. And after he napped it was outside to play ball with the dog and then off to soccer practice. Once home it was dinner followed by Algebra story problems. Where the hell did the day go? I haven’t the foggiest idea. But I do know that I am absolutely giddy at the thought of going to bed. Is that bad? I don’t know, but it sure sounds good right now.