Several days ago I mentioned how things were falling by the wayside. In my stupor of "overwhelmedness", chores both big and small were going undone. Sure, everyone has clean underpants, but have you seen the roots of my hair? I declare today Personal Maintenance Day, beginning with these damnable grey hairs. Other selections from A Life Unlived will include writing (in a coherent voice) the official Clementine's newsletter blurbage, with selected photos to add to the basic template, committing to calendar the class schedule for the shop, with both patchworking and knitting selections for beginner and intermediate students, and getting the fabric order shored up and e-mailed to Westminster before my head implodes from the pressure of it all.
Once finished with those piddling tasks, I will proceed to the kitchen at Becher Haus, where I will dust all the cobwebs from the ceiling and scrub the maple syrup off the floor. Once I've cured the floor of it's sticky-bits (note that at no time did I say I was mopping the whole thing), I will doubtless have to rummage through the cupboards for the monthly "pitch & toss" of cereal and pop-tart boxes that are taking up real estate and posing as actual foodstuffs. By the time I get this far into 'cleaning' and 're-organizing', I will probably require a nap. After my freshly dyed hair hits the pillow a fight will break out between the factions of the upstairs inhabitants, and my high blood-pressure and I will scrap the nap for an adrenaline-infused hollering match with the seven and nine year olds. I know (and have no delusions about) my children.
The soundtrack in the background for this Very Productive Day will be the sounds of Wilhelm and Dietrich (the surly Germans in the laundry room) working their magic on the mountains of dirty duds this family generates.
Geesh, I'm exhausted just typing it all in. Time to get a little sleep before the madness begins. I think I'll give myself ten minute 'knitting breaks' in between paragraphs/lists/chores to break up the day and make it feel more like a day off, rather than a day stuck in high gear.