Despite my previous anxiety over the week's schedule and how it all went south very early on Monday morning, there was a time yesterday when I thought I had everything licked. I'd cancelled one appointment and swapped another, and called in some favors and did an anti-rain dance, and, other than the moment when one of the barn pigeons splodged my THS Tennis sweatshirt, all was well.
(What, you don't have barn pigeons? I do, and I can't seem to get rid of them, despite near-heroic efforts by the barn cats, who would prefer I use the term squab. Anyway, I'd left 5 extra minutes in my morning calculations, which meant I had time to go back to the house and wipe off the sweatshirt, which was how fully I was rocking the morning).
I left the house at 7 am (and again at 7:20, splodge-free) and didn't return until 7 pm, but by evening I'd successfully picked up Visiting Author John Rocco at his hotel in Bristol, got him breakfast, delivered him to St. Anne Catholic School, and hung around just long enough there to see that my friend Angie, the librarian, was on top of her own chaos. Then I went to the high school, helped my friend Tracy lug in some soup for Teacher Appreciation Week, retrieved my daughter, and headed off to the rescheduled district tournament.
On the way there my daughter noticed that I'd gotten my autographed John Rocco books mixed up with my friend Maureen's autographed books, but Mo and I can fix that.
Then we had tennis, which took awhile, but it was pleasant, and it lasted long enough that I didn't have to feel guilty about not taking my daughter back to school. I took her to Panera Bread and then a bookstore instead. Then we met my husband, who'd finished work, at his orthopedist's office. My husband needed his trick shoulder injected again, and wanted me to go with him. We had to wait a long time. I felt like complaining, but my husband suggested mildly that since he'd called his orthopedist at home the night before and asked to come in late in the day, perhaps I should just be grateful. So I tried that.
Then we got pizza. All was well.
Then we went home, and the horses were staring at me over the fence, appalled, because DINNER WAS LATE, and guess what? There wasn't any dinner. We were stone cold out of grain, which never happens, and I'd forgotten to get more, which is starting to feel like it happens all the time.
Now, the horses were turned out on the lushest pasture on earth, and have been eating so much luscious spring grass that two of them are wearing muzzles to limit their grazing. On their best days they get 1 cup, 1 household measuring cup, of low-carb horse feed, combined with some vitamins and other stuff. It's essentially like giving me 4 Cheerios and calling it breakfast. But horses cling to their habits, and what this group knew most strongly, at 7 pm last night, is that they were being abused and deprived. Reproachful looks all around.
Duly chastened, I returned to the house and opened some wine. I had new books to read, and managed to read them even though I'd broken my only pair of bifocals the day before. I stayed up later than my husband and my daughter, waiting for my son to come home (he'd watched his high school baseball team lose in the district finals, and then gone out for 60-cent wing night with a big group of friends.). He came home, and we talked for awhile, and then I went to bed, sleeping soundly until 2 am.
At which time I woke up and remembered that my son had missed a doctor's appointment that afternoon. One he didn't know about, because I didn't tell him.
My brain hopped onto the hamster wheel of Things I Haven't Done or Have Recently Screwed Up, and whirled for the next hour. That was fun. Then I overslept. Also fun.
Then I sat down at my computer. I sent 17,000 emails about stuff I will be doing, soon. Then, still feeling guilty about my many and various personal deficiencies, I typed the above title: All the Things I Haven't Done.
And the first thought--the very first thought--to enter my head: "Well, I haven't killed anyone yet."
Very good, I thought. Carry on.
(What, you don't have barn pigeons? I do, and I can't seem to get rid of them, despite near-heroic efforts by the barn cats, who would prefer I use the term squab. Anyway, I'd left 5 extra minutes in my morning calculations, which meant I had time to go back to the house and wipe off the sweatshirt, which was how fully I was rocking the morning).
I left the house at 7 am (and again at 7:20, splodge-free) and didn't return until 7 pm, but by evening I'd successfully picked up Visiting Author John Rocco at his hotel in Bristol, got him breakfast, delivered him to St. Anne Catholic School, and hung around just long enough there to see that my friend Angie, the librarian, was on top of her own chaos. Then I went to the high school, helped my friend Tracy lug in some soup for Teacher Appreciation Week, retrieved my daughter, and headed off to the rescheduled district tournament.
On the way there my daughter noticed that I'd gotten my autographed John Rocco books mixed up with my friend Maureen's autographed books, but Mo and I can fix that.
Then we had tennis, which took awhile, but it was pleasant, and it lasted long enough that I didn't have to feel guilty about not taking my daughter back to school. I took her to Panera Bread and then a bookstore instead. Then we met my husband, who'd finished work, at his orthopedist's office. My husband needed his trick shoulder injected again, and wanted me to go with him. We had to wait a long time. I felt like complaining, but my husband suggested mildly that since he'd called his orthopedist at home the night before and asked to come in late in the day, perhaps I should just be grateful. So I tried that.
Then we got pizza. All was well.
Then we went home, and the horses were staring at me over the fence, appalled, because DINNER WAS LATE, and guess what? There wasn't any dinner. We were stone cold out of grain, which never happens, and I'd forgotten to get more, which is starting to feel like it happens all the time.
Now, the horses were turned out on the lushest pasture on earth, and have been eating so much luscious spring grass that two of them are wearing muzzles to limit their grazing. On their best days they get 1 cup, 1 household measuring cup, of low-carb horse feed, combined with some vitamins and other stuff. It's essentially like giving me 4 Cheerios and calling it breakfast. But horses cling to their habits, and what this group knew most strongly, at 7 pm last night, is that they were being abused and deprived. Reproachful looks all around.
Duly chastened, I returned to the house and opened some wine. I had new books to read, and managed to read them even though I'd broken my only pair of bifocals the day before. I stayed up later than my husband and my daughter, waiting for my son to come home (he'd watched his high school baseball team lose in the district finals, and then gone out for 60-cent wing night with a big group of friends.). He came home, and we talked for awhile, and then I went to bed, sleeping soundly until 2 am.
At which time I woke up and remembered that my son had missed a doctor's appointment that afternoon. One he didn't know about, because I didn't tell him.
My brain hopped onto the hamster wheel of Things I Haven't Done or Have Recently Screwed Up, and whirled for the next hour. That was fun. Then I overslept. Also fun.
Then I sat down at my computer. I sent 17,000 emails about stuff I will be doing, soon. Then, still feeling guilty about my many and various personal deficiencies, I typed the above title: All the Things I Haven't Done.
And the first thought--the very first thought--to enter my head: "Well, I haven't killed anyone yet."
Very good, I thought. Carry on.
Oh, Kim.
ReplyDeleteEven after reading your "Jesus gave me a kick in the pants" blog entry, which felt very familiar, I am still wincing, imagining far too clearly all these things happening. Hoping the rest of the week and next week is smoother. Perhaps you have just checked all those things off your list of things to do and gotten them all out of the way early? Really, you're ahead of the game.
And then I snicker, "Wait, you have BIFOCALS?" - entirely ignoring the fact that I have already been offered them as an option. :-D
Carry on.
And have a good glass of wine for me.