Time

Every night, right before blissful slumber overcomes my body, I ponder what I did and did not accomplish for the day.

Every night I realize 24 hours in a day just isn't enough. Between work, housework, errands, working out, catching up, spending time with loved ones, spending time with loved pets - I can't seem to find a happy balance of what needs to be done, and what can wait.

At the moment my kitchen table is overridden with clutter that needs to be put in it's rightful place. My master bathroom is half painted with paint supplies strewn haphazardly all over the floor. An overflowing basket of laundry sits untouched in my bedroom. My down comforter is naked because I haven't washed it's duvet. I haven't washed the duvet because once I wash it, it will have to be ironed. I don't feel like ironing. Dust bunnies comprised of a combination of cat hair and dog hair roll by like tumbleweeds. Work emails need to be sent. Personal emails need to be sent. The bathtubs aren't disgusting - but aren't necessarily gleaming clean like I prefer them to be. My car has remnants of sand in the backseat from the dog park I took Simon to the other day after work. I haven't been to the gym since Monday. I have clothes to return that I probably can't return now because it's been over a month. I need to call the vet to discuss Ebenezer's chronic urinary issues. We haven't done anything in regards to wedding planning/saving/discussing.....

**SIGH**

Does it ever end?

All of these things make me feel bad. It doesn't help that I'm a control freak, and I was raised on the motto, "A place for everything, and everything in it's place." Those words play over and over in my mind as I step over my shoes that I didn't put away (that Simon chewed this morning), as I push away a dish on the coffee table, as I stare at a stack of mail that needs to be sorted through.

I force myself to stop. STOP thinking of these things that in the grand scheme of things are not important.

My messy kitchen table isn't a big deal. What is a big deal is that I have enough family and friends to sit around that table. The laundry on the floor-who cares. We have clothes to wear. Clean clothes. They might be wrinkled, but so what. The animal fur? Lots and lots of animal fur means that my beloved pets are home and loved and show us love. As I write this, Simon is chasing a rolling ball of fur across the kitchen floor. He is happy. I am happy. All the correspondence to keep up with - phone calls, emails, BLOGGING - means I have people to correspond with, and that I am never alone.

Happy Friday :)