A word of explanation for the paucity of posts. Meltdown.
Meltdown, as in:
- Year-end financial reports due at work (I manage to conquer my math anxiety every year, but it never gets easier – something else I can’t quite figure.)
- 450 flower bulbs bouncing around the front porch and basement screeching “plant me” every time I walked by (see? I can count bulbs alright)
- The twice-yearly closet purge and flipping of summer/winter wardrobe, a process made lengthier by the necessity to try on every single item of clothing because I’ve lost nearly 30 lbs. since last season’s change – leading to
- Way too many hours of shopping because, truly, I had nothing to wear except for cinching my trousers and traipsing around as though I were wearing a saggy diaper
- Trying – mostly in vain for the past month – to keep up with the demands of The Mother’s Day Project
- And, not least – experiencing a major crisis from the effects of a lack of unstructured creative time wherein I am not obliged to answer the telephone, the doorbell, respond to emails, plant 450 flower bulbs, prepare financial reports, find something to wear, prepare dinner, shop for food, read blogs, read newspapers (wherein I discover that more soldiers have died in Iraq and that we should take this as a sign that we’re winning this war), converse with other human beings in anything close to a civil tone, and generally be the kind of person that others might choose to spend time with.
I’m sure by now you’re beginning to understand that I stopped blogging for your benefit, dear readers. Pity those unable to escape from my presence so easily.
The residual puddle of frustration, anger and exhaustion is gradually drying. I may even start answering the phone again.