… back to life … back to reality

I’m home.

My plan when I got home was to unpack, do laundry and post about Chicago.  That’s just not happening today.  I don’t know what is happening today, except alot of starting, stopping and avoiding.

My suitcase is half unpacked and spread over three rooms.  There are 2 piles of laundry lying in the hall.

My parents stayed at my place while I was away.  I mentioned I wanted to take apart my kitchen hutch, throw out the top part and paint the bottom.  Then I’d use the newly refurbished version in the dining room.  God bless their cotton socks.  When I arrived back, hutch was taken apart, moved to dining room with the first coat of paint on.  The only down side, that hutch held a lot of stuff!  All that stuff is now in my spare room.

When I walk into the kitchen it is a little bleak and sad. Which makes my blood pressure rise with the thought of what am I going to do with it now. So I walk out.  Into the dining room, to see the unfinished hutch needing another coat or two of paint.  I leave.  Head down the hall, where my eye catches the car brochures.  Oh yeah, I have to decided which car I am getting.  Keep walking, stepping over laundry that isn’t going to do itself, into the spare room with my suitcase and the contents of the hutch all over the floor.  I am now at anxiety level 10. I normally coast through life at a 3.  Can’t do anything about the hutch stuff until I paint it.  I back out.

The bathrooms need cleaned.

My bedroom.  Besides for clothes that need to be put away, this room is pure serenity.  I am not leaving here.  Ever.  I just want to lie on this bed and watch the hypnotic ceiling fan.

I just glanced down at my toes .. I need a pedicure