I can hear my mom’s voice right now, “Angela, you have to be okay with yourself regardless of whether you’re chosen last at kickball, you have a date for the homecoming dance, you get a call back from the job interview or whether or not people are reading your blog.” She’s optimistic like that. And for the record, I ALWAYS had a date for whatever dance was happening. I usually got whatever job I applied for and…..well, the kickball game? That didn’t really matter, now did it?
Back to reality, the only way to bring my stats back up, other than begging everyone I know to read stale content, is to write something new. So I am. Because I’m just disciplined and motivated like that… a real “go-getter.”
The truth is I’m procrastinating. That’s an activity I never put off. We’re leaving for a two-week family vacation tomorrow and I haven’t done laundry in the same length of time. If I don’t get up and wash something, we’ll have to cancel our Disney visit in favor of an affordable family-friendly nudist colony. Either that, or pack lots of towels and safety pins. I always have clean towels because in spite of registering for lots of useful “married people” stuff, James and I received 347 sets of towels and wash cloths for our wedding. I guess people thought we showered a lot…or needed to. I’ve never really figured it out.
The problem with going on vacation is the brain searing, exhausting, logistical chaos that leads up to the R and R. Trying to squeeze two weeks’ worth of office work into three days, scheduling pet sitting, plant watering, utility and loan shark payments, halting mail and newspapers and creating unique, semi-edible meal solutions with perishable foods that if not eaten, will turn into antibiotics before we get back is maddening. Oh, and then there’s that pesky laundry situation again. And getting said laundry into suitcases. Having kids means packing half a Toys-R-Us and enough snacks to stock a bomb shelter for the car ride. I have sticky notes all over the house noting items not to forget. My brain is turning into an Excel spreadsheet.
Regardless of my organizational acrobatics, once we’ve driven for an hour or so toward Florida, I’ll realize that I’ve left the oven on broil, forgotten Jack’s beloved blankie or left my ADD medication on the kitchen counter. My fear is that we’ll have to make a u-turn somewhere around Kingsland and start all over again. I’m just so ready for the part where I can “sit right here and have another beer in Mexico” or another Margarita in the Magic Kingdom. Either way Kenny Chesney is welcome. Right now, I’d love to stand under a steaming hot shower for about 20 minutes, but it’s lightning-ing outside and I don’t want to be electrocuted. Not right now, anyway. If things get any more chaotic, a few hundred volts charging through my nervous system might be a welcome diversion.
In the meantime, if nothing else gets done tonight, I can say that I wrote something. This blog post can’t be packed in a garment bag and it’s not suitable for wearing on Space Mountain. But, at least when my husband says “did you do ANYTHING last night?” I can reply, “yes, I wrote about everything that I should’ve been doing.” Acknowledgement is the first step. Right?