I’m not saying, “things are hard.” I’m saying, “when, in the course of human events, you’re in a crappy mood, even normal life seems hard.”
We need to get into a kindergarten that won’t break my child by using the old carrot-stick model of factory child production. We need to move or win the lottery to do that. I don’t want to move or play the lottery.
Spouse needs knee surgery. I need Spouse so I can have one hour to myself a week. I need one hour to myself a week to polish two journal articles and a novel resubmission. I need to polish articles and rejigger a novel to keep my sanity, self of self worth, and forward motion. I need one hour a week. I want three hours a day. I foresee no hours and a long knee rehab.
I need some sleep. For me to sleep, Butter needs to sleep. He needs clear ears to do that. He has a cold and relatively mildly infected ears, which could be due to our elimination diet. He needs us to stay off omelets and sourdough and cheese and peanut butter. I want cheese rolls. I foresee rice and beans for about as long as knee rehab.
No, I’m not reworking and publishing my awesome novel. But I cleaned the microwave today. I haven’t had the time to develop the finer points of an intricate argument I’m making for a journal article. But I steam mopped the floors while holding a baby who refused to nap. I haven’t made any progress on the resume and cover letter a friend asked me two months ago to submit to her, but I assessed the status of storage in the garage.
I haven’t made any progress on the seven things I ranked most important to my happiness (in a New Year’s exercise on priorities). But I did bits and pieces of stuff that didn’t matter at all. Without any flavor, sleep, or alone time. Yay for me?