#57 – like the ketchup, it’s coming slowly

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I’ve been home for a couple of days. I love being home. I’m sure I’ve said before how my home is my happy place.

It’s also a source of worry and anxiety at the moment. There are so many half-finished projects here – painting, windows, floors, deck, garage – the list goes on.

Whenever I walk through the doors after having been gone for a while I feel this immense sense of relief and release. Then, after a few hours I start feeling anxious and in need of doing something.

I look around and think – okay, let’s make a list. So, I do. And by the time I’m done I’m so overwhelmed that I don’t know where to start.

Part of the problem is knowing that I won’t be staying for very long. It’s so hard to accomplish anything when you can’t completely focus on the task you’ve chosen.

Because it’s never a situation of having only one thing to do, there’s all the other bits and pieces of life that have to be taken care of as well.

I’m beginning to worry that I’ll ever get anything done. I have great intentions and my desire to get things done is as strong as it ever was. The problem is I can’t seem to muster the requisite energy and the willpower.

I got home Wednesday around noon. After a bite of lunch and a small rest, I took stock. I’d had some vehicle troubles on the way home, so that was priority number one. Then it was heading out to the store for some staples. After that I unpacked, made a couple of calls and decided I’d better get the driveway shoveled. That was my day.

I came in from shoveling thinking I’d have supper and then get started on some other project, but after supper I was pooped. I watched television and drank tea until it was time for bed.

I’m sorry for boring you with such mundane details, but I’m trying to make sense of where my time goes and why I always have this feeling of having not done enough with it.

Yesterday, I got down to cleaning and purging – a task that I’m coming to believe is like living in hell. No matter how much you do there’s still more, and it never seems like you’re making a dent in any of it.

I focused on a bunch of small tasks yesterday – I cleaned out a few drawers, did a bigger grocery run, got my appointments made and posted a bunch of stuff I want to get rid of on buy and sell sites.

Then it was monitoring replies to my posts, getting soup ready for supper and working on finishing up a crochet project I’d  started. I wanted to start painting window frames, but.  .  . by 7 o’clock I was done.

More tv and a few games on my tablet before heading to bed and reading.

It doesn’t sound like much, does it? But I swear, I FELT busy, and I was too tired after supper to seriously think of doing anything more.

I know that much of this has to do with age – it’s a natural progression to slow down. But I’m also fighting with a sense of guilt for not having the kind of energy and enthusiasm I once had for fluffing up my nest.

I’ve got to figure this out.

 

It bothers him when I blog while he’s in the room. . .

The sparks were flying at Casa Larson this morning!

I have a great husband, he’s hard-working, funny, loyal and he helps out around the house from time to time.  However. . .

. . . he cannot handle my doing something private/personal like reading, writing or blogging when he’s in the same room.  He continually interrupts me with silly questions and comments — it’s like he can’t stand that I’m not paying attention to him.  A very fundamental observation, I think.  I try hard to just ignore his stomping about, his noisy thrashings, the sighs, the barrage of questions, but it’s not too long before I start feeling a tad guilty.

Now, that’s silly, isn’t it?  Why should I feel guilty because my focus is elsewhere?  Relationship quandary — still, after nearly 31 years of marriage!   I do love him though — he’s buttering my toast as I write this ( and complaining about our piece of shit toaster.)

Breakfast was nice, but then. . .

. . . we got into a stupid argument about trees!  He can’t stand anything that makes a ‘mess’.  Trees, being what they are, create a mess — well, I don’t consider it a mess, he does — they’re just trees, they can’t help it.  Life is messy, I said, to which he got angry because somehow that implied that I was saying he didn’t like ANY trees.  Truth is, he doesn’t — he got rid of every single tree in our back yard so he could build a monstrous garage.  Anyway, he’s cranky now, and I’m just annoyed.  Some yard work on opposite sides of the house should  correct that.

Don’t know what got into me last night.  Started cleaning house — it’s been ignored because of all the yard work and other activities that have taken up my time — and before I knew what I was doing I was taking down the curtains in the kitchen and washing all the cupboards and walls!  Trust me, those walls needed it, but all I was going to do was wipe the counters and wash the floors!  So, now that I’ve started with one room, I’m going to have to do the rest.  Ah, well, I’ve got the time, it’s just I’d much rather sit in a lounge chair with a book and a beer than wash walls.

And while we’re on the subject of reading . . . I haven’t done near as much of it as I wanted to.  So far , this is what I’ve read:  Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel, wonderful though disturbing book; The Fourth Hand by John Irving, typical Irving; The Independence of Miss Mary Bennett by Colleen McCullough,her interpretation of what happened to the sisters in Pride and Prejudice after they all(except Mary)  got married.  A nice summer read, a bit fluffy and fantastic, but it was great for the train ride to and from New York.  Now, I’m reading The Full Cupboard of Life, by Alexander McCall Smith.  He writes The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, set in Botswana, Africa.  this is book 4, I’m actually re-reading it, because I forgot where I left off in the series.  I adore these stories.   His characters are wonderful, the setting is amazing and he writes with an obvious love of Africa and its people.  Highly recommend these books.  Nice, fast read.

Well, I’m going to have to pull this to a close — it’s starting to get warm outside and I have lots to do.