Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
In Which...
November. How is it already November?
Is it getting old? I do this every month, don't I? Well, most recently. Let's see...here and sort of here. OK, so not every month. But I'm thinking it nearly constantly. It's less than a month until Thanksgiving and the Event after that practically starts when Thanksgiving ends.
I have presents I need to work on! I felt better after I made some progress last weekend on one that was more involved. I'm not sure why I'm so worried. I'm only making a few presents this year. Like four or something. But I'm busier than I was the year I made 32 presents. Sort of. It's a different kind of busy.
The I'm-driving-all-over-the-place kind of busy. I'll drive for ten minutes. Stay home a few hours. Drive another ten minutes. Few more hours, probably taking a nap. (I love naps. One of my favorite pastimes.) Drive half-an-hour. All these little things aren't very involved, but add them together? I feel super busy. One day when I was journaling (that's totally a word, spellcheck!), I wrote that the only time I had to contemplate life so far that week, I just wanted to sleep. I often drive by myself in silence and just think, but it's not completely relaxing, because you have to pay attention to the other cars and where you're going. (Who knew?) Traffic is not really a peaceful place to reflect on deep things. Like life in general.
Mondays are truly busy though. The last two Mondays, I drove Stephen to work in the morning, went to work myself at around one o'clock (I'm working at the Severson's farm once a week on Monday afternoons, packing up oats or wheat or washing buckets or...), came back home at around six thirty, ate supper, went to choir, and came home and finished (well, started and finished) homework for the next day. Our closed form poetry was due today. So I stayed up until twelve writing poems last night. I had some other things to do too so I didn't get to bed until one. Unfortunately, that's not unusual. I think the earliest I ever went to bed this semester before I had to go to school the next day was around eleven. (Man, was that a long sentence!) And then I have to get up at 6 something. It's getting harder and harder to force myself out of bed in the mornings. Not that I don't want to go to school (only a couple times). I just don't want to get out of bed. To be honest, I never really do. That act of climbing out is the hardest part. Once I'm up, I'm up. I'm past the point of no return. Haha.
The long title of this post is In Which My Brain Leaks on to a Piece of Paper-Er, Computer Screen. (Sounds like the title of a poem. Maybe.) But I thought that was too long to put into the title space.
Yeah. I guess that's the mood I'm in.
Is it getting old? I do this every month, don't I? Well, most recently. Let's see...here and sort of here. OK, so not every month. But I'm thinking it nearly constantly. It's less than a month until Thanksgiving and the Event after that practically starts when Thanksgiving ends.
I have presents I need to work on! I felt better after I made some progress last weekend on one that was more involved. I'm not sure why I'm so worried. I'm only making a few presents this year. Like four or something. But I'm busier than I was the year I made 32 presents. Sort of. It's a different kind of busy.
The I'm-driving-all-over-the-place kind of busy. I'll drive for ten minutes. Stay home a few hours. Drive another ten minutes. Few more hours, probably taking a nap. (I love naps. One of my favorite pastimes.) Drive half-an-hour. All these little things aren't very involved, but add them together? I feel super busy. One day when I was journaling (that's totally a word, spellcheck!), I wrote that the only time I had to contemplate life so far that week, I just wanted to sleep. I often drive by myself in silence and just think, but it's not completely relaxing, because you have to pay attention to the other cars and where you're going. (Who knew?) Traffic is not really a peaceful place to reflect on deep things. Like life in general.
Mondays are truly busy though. The last two Mondays, I drove Stephen to work in the morning, went to work myself at around one o'clock (I'm working at the Severson's farm once a week on Monday afternoons, packing up oats or wheat or washing buckets or...), came back home at around six thirty, ate supper, went to choir, and came home and finished (well, started and finished) homework for the next day. Our closed form poetry was due today. So I stayed up until twelve writing poems last night. I had some other things to do too so I didn't get to bed until one. Unfortunately, that's not unusual. I think the earliest I ever went to bed this semester before I had to go to school the next day was around eleven. (Man, was that a long sentence!) And then I have to get up at 6 something. It's getting harder and harder to force myself out of bed in the mornings. Not that I don't want to go to school (only a couple times). I just don't want to get out of bed. To be honest, I never really do. That act of climbing out is the hardest part. Once I'm up, I'm up. I'm past the point of no return. Haha.
The long title of this post is In Which My Brain Leaks on to a Piece of Paper-Er, Computer Screen. (Sounds like the title of a poem. Maybe.) But I thought that was too long to put into the title space.
Yeah. I guess that's the mood I'm in.
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