This morning, after my husband left for work and my daughter left for school, I laid down on the couch to think.
No, really. I didn't fall asleep, and I wasn't meditating or praying--things which would have, given the comfiness of the couch, certainly led to sleep. I lay and thought, and was at peace with my conclusions, and it was a really lovely start to the day.
Then I got up to discover that one of the dogs had eaten my daughter's new leather riding gloves, and the other had eaten the crotch out of a pair of her underwear.
The dogs are getting more expensive all the time.
Do you have a to-do list? I do. Mine seems to be getting increasingly extensive. I wrote myself a list on a post-it yesterday afternoon, then instead of actually doing anything on the list I played triple-solitaire with my children for a few hours. I lost, which was annoying. Then, when it got late, I laid down on the couch with the annotated shooting scripts of Season Two of Downton Abbey, instead of, say, one of the three novels I'm supposed to be reviewing by Sunday.
You'd think, well, that's not so bad, at least I've got all day Saturday to finish the books. Wrong. My parents arrive for the weekend tonight. And the Colts are in the playoffs, and it'll be the last few days with my son.
Which isn't to say that I won't get the reviews done, well and on time. I meet deadlines. But I'll procrastinate for as long as possible first.
Also half the Christmas decorations are still decorating. They don't seem willing to come down on their own. Part of me thinks this is shameful--but not a very big part. Should I be more concerned? One big symptom of depression is a loss of interest in things that used to concern you, but I have to be honest, this doesn't feel like depression. This feels like happiness. This feels like I've got my priorities in order, despite what it says on my post-it notes.
Does it feel like that to do? Or is self-delusion the first step toward chaos?
No, really. I didn't fall asleep, and I wasn't meditating or praying--things which would have, given the comfiness of the couch, certainly led to sleep. I lay and thought, and was at peace with my conclusions, and it was a really lovely start to the day.
Then I got up to discover that one of the dogs had eaten my daughter's new leather riding gloves, and the other had eaten the crotch out of a pair of her underwear.
The dogs are getting more expensive all the time.
Do you have a to-do list? I do. Mine seems to be getting increasingly extensive. I wrote myself a list on a post-it yesterday afternoon, then instead of actually doing anything on the list I played triple-solitaire with my children for a few hours. I lost, which was annoying. Then, when it got late, I laid down on the couch with the annotated shooting scripts of Season Two of Downton Abbey, instead of, say, one of the three novels I'm supposed to be reviewing by Sunday.
You'd think, well, that's not so bad, at least I've got all day Saturday to finish the books. Wrong. My parents arrive for the weekend tonight. And the Colts are in the playoffs, and it'll be the last few days with my son.
Which isn't to say that I won't get the reviews done, well and on time. I meet deadlines. But I'll procrastinate for as long as possible first.
Also half the Christmas decorations are still decorating. They don't seem willing to come down on their own. Part of me thinks this is shameful--but not a very big part. Should I be more concerned? One big symptom of depression is a loss of interest in things that used to concern you, but I have to be honest, this doesn't feel like depression. This feels like happiness. This feels like I've got my priorities in order, despite what it says on my post-it notes.
Does it feel like that to do? Or is self-delusion the first step toward chaos?
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