Truly, someone please explain why there is more to do than time to do it?
Even though I've had the best of intentions to finish several partially written pieces that need just that last little bit of fine-tuning and someone to point out all my grammatical errors, begin on the hastily scribbled idea's for other posts piling up in my favorite journal, there hasn't actually been any time to sit down and DO those things since I've returned from vacation. The day I got back it was unpack, start the laundry catch-up and battle the cold that suddenly came on and flattened me. I lost that battle, by the way.
Then it was the office back-log and hundreds, yes really hundreds, of emails waiting to be read and acted upon...or deleted in the hopes some of them never really needed my input anyway. I figure if it's really important someone will inquire again and if the subject doesn't arise a second time, it never really mattered in the first place. It is entirely possible that email is truly the biggest sucker of productive time ever created. Once a person starts, they never get out. Ever.
Ace started wrestling practice this week so he gets home much later every day now which pushes back the homework and dinner schedule. And every thing else in the house as he demonstrates the new wrestling maneuvers he has been learning. On his sister, who he tries to lock in a half nelson every chance he gets. And then she punches him in the stomach and he tries to pin her arms and then she kicks him and then he...you see where this is heading? Yeah, in between getting dinner ready, loading the dishwasher and ignoring the laundry (because I'd rather remove dog bombs from the backyard then fold the laundry), I'm refereeing the sibling squabbles.
Mommy needs a new bottle of whiskey. And don't forget the ginger-ale, please.
Giggles is trudging through what appears to be a whole new dimension in the amount of math homework a fifth grader can get done in one night. I don't think I had this much math homework, ever. She hates math and it takes hours for her to navigate through the tortures of the damned, which is how she views this stuff and I must admit I do not disagree with her. Ask her to write a pithy essay about anything and that clever brain of hers can whip up a short story in the time it takes the dog to fart. Ask her to work through division of fractions and I'll be ready for the assisted living facility before it gets done.
What I find amazing is how polar opposite these two are in certain areas. Ace can juggle math problems in his head with ease and is seems to adapt to any athletic pursuit but has difficulty spelling and can't draw a straight line. Giggles is extremely creative with words and artistic with any medium but couldn't give a damn about sports and still fumbles her multiplication tables and prefers to count on her fingers. And toes if she needs them.
This weekend the new TV gets delivered and while we've picked out a new piece of furniture to go with the new TV, it is not here yet. The old entertainment cabinet needs to be moved out of the house and space made. The house currently looks like the Tasmanian devil whirled through with high velocity winds and never looked back.
It's never boring in Chez Catootes. Now, where's that whiskey bottle?
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