Busy
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It is officially that time of year when I begin thinking in “and thens.” Yesterday was my son’s birthday (24, who believes?) and then there’s Thanksgiving (times two), and then there’s my daughter’s birthday (26, holy shit), and then there’re cookie parties and meetings and then there’s Christmas, of course, and then there’s New Year’s…
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We’re all so busy all of the time. Crazy busy. C’mon, you know you are, or have been, or will be. Busy can be fun, it can be important, it can be crazy, but in the end, it’s not really what we want. (We want a nap. But I digress.) We all say it, all
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Oh shit, it’s Monday! I totally forgot… well, not so much forgot as did not think about it at all. It appears that my mind is at capacity. There is no room left for new thoughts—or even old thoughts. Or, it seems, even obvious thoughts. Of course it’s Monday! I could blame the holiday (Happy
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I love Mondays. I made the Monday discovery a long time ago. The kids went back to school after notoriously busy weekends filled with practices, projects, parties and away games. Dave began his work week. And I had the house to myself. I’d recuperate from the mayhem at an indulgent pace—things would get done, when
MARY LAMPHERE AUTHOR 