I was hoping to sort of ease back in to life in the real world after our nice long break, but it hasn’t quite turned out that way. Nothing terrible happened, thankfully, but there were a lot of little things to deal with, things that would have been more easily dealt with over break, only everyone was on break, so there was no way to deal with them until 9 am this morning.
I think the cherry on the shit sundae was our oldest daughter’s lunchbox, which she left at school two and a half weeks ago, but brought home this afternoon and left open on the kitchen counter where I had planned to prepare dinner. I. I can’t even talk about it.
Thankfully I thought ahead and had a little cup of coffee, which was much needed because I was up until midnight fretting about all of things I had to do today, which all seemed like much larger hurdles in the dark of our bedroom than when I woke up this morning and started climbing them.
So, here is the thing. There is a lot of shit going on right now. A lot of not so great shit. Nothing terrible or horrible. Our children are healthy, we are healthy, we live in a little bubble of love, for the most part, but there is also some shit, and some shit brewing nearby. Despite all of that shit, or maybe because of it, I feel pretty good. I feel equipped to muck the stalls, something I haven’t done literally in far too long. For someone my size, I am surprisingly good with a shovel (and a pile of shit).
During naps I worked on some of my fiction (it is so, so, so bad, but so, so so, fun to write), and as I wrote about the “old days,” as people think of them now, I thought back to what we were all wearing and doing and listening to on the radio or on our CDs. It was fun to do that, to think about how things have changed. I wonder what it feels like for my grandparents to think about that in their own lives, all of the changes they’ve seen. It must be a strange feeling, to see so many styles come and go, so many people come and go, and to be the one constant, or in their case, the one constant with his or her spouse.
Maybe when I call tomorrow I’ll ask my grandmother. This post has a lot of “I” in it. Weird. I wonder if my posts are always like that.
In other news, I am ready for bed.