We [layed outside until Annaliese got bit by an ant. So now the kids are eating strawberries and watching Aladdin.

I should be:

1. Starting dinner
2. Making the bed
3. Folding the laundry
4. Calling my meat/cheese person or possibly
5. Running a dozen eggs down to the store.

I have been struck lately by how so much of my life is about balancing what has to be done, what various people need, and how to stay sane. Constant choices-- who can afford to not talk to me? What can slide for the day, and what absolutely has to get done? (Guess where the dogs rank in this daily tally... they are down to weekend walks.)

I disintctly recall when my time was more like what I should be doing, and what I was doing: chore versus luxury.

Those days be gone, baby.

And I can't really say I miss them.

I used to worry I was lazy. Because I didn't like doing chores, or much else besides reading. I wanted-- even as a child-- to be a person who liked to take walks, garden, read non-fiction, work hard at something without hating every minute. But all I really wanted to do was read, possibly swim-- while reading.

And now? A morning off means I sweep the house, mop the kitchen, and weed the tomatoes. AND IT'S FUN. Because I can go at my own pace and daydream while weeding and enjoy the sun shine and the gleam of clean floors.

I think I am doing the right things.
Because I may not yet be in the black, or have enough time for everything, but I do not grudge the time I spend.
I am not waiting to be done so that I can return to my real life.

Gosh, it can be fun to be a grown-up.