Sometimes things just don't work out. We're not talking huge catastrophic crises, just every day bummers.
I had a vision for the weekend. It involved a sparkly clean house and hours of productive work and tomato seedlings gently nestled in rich potting soil and tea on the balcony and arroz con pollo simmering on the stove. It involved restorative time alone with naps and reading. It involved me being relaxed and happy and welcoming D home (from a weekend away) with a pint of fancy, possibly outrageously priced, beer. We would catch up and laugh and sip and be generally charming and perfect.
The weekend was rather lovely and productive, but I ran out of time. Seedlings languish unplanted, slightly crispy from lack of water. There is no food in the fridge (I know, because I made a meal of stale crackers and olives late Saturday night) let alone fancy drinks. The thrifted glassware I bought last week is taking up all the counter space in my kitchen, waiting to be washed and put to use. I had to sew until 11 pm to finish up orders for this week. And when I finally went to collapse into bed I realized that I hadn't changed the sheets and made the bed, which I knew desperately needed to be done. And since I had planned to do it, the bed was particularly disastrous, complete with cracker crumb remnants of my Saturday night "meal" and blankets set seriously askew.
Sad. In a commonplace, every day sort of way. Made better because D cooked up some spaghetti as soon as he got home, thus saving me from finishing the jar of olives for dinner. And I did feel a bit awesome because I was able to produce a loaf of bread to go with the spaghetti, because I had some chilled dough in the fridge.
Big sigh. Just a little reminder that no one's life is perfect, even if it looks that way sometimes (at least, this is what I tell myself, over and over again). Also, we just finished week eleven of the shopping hiatus (one week to go!) and we're rocking it. No slip ups at all.
I had a vision for the weekend. It involved a sparkly clean house and hours of productive work and tomato seedlings gently nestled in rich potting soil and tea on the balcony and arroz con pollo simmering on the stove. It involved restorative time alone with naps and reading. It involved me being relaxed and happy and welcoming D home (from a weekend away) with a pint of fancy, possibly outrageously priced, beer. We would catch up and laugh and sip and be generally charming and perfect.
The weekend was rather lovely and productive, but I ran out of time. Seedlings languish unplanted, slightly crispy from lack of water. There is no food in the fridge (I know, because I made a meal of stale crackers and olives late Saturday night) let alone fancy drinks. The thrifted glassware I bought last week is taking up all the counter space in my kitchen, waiting to be washed and put to use. I had to sew until 11 pm to finish up orders for this week. And when I finally went to collapse into bed I realized that I hadn't changed the sheets and made the bed, which I knew desperately needed to be done. And since I had planned to do it, the bed was particularly disastrous, complete with cracker crumb remnants of my Saturday night "meal" and blankets set seriously askew.
Sad. In a commonplace, every day sort of way. Made better because D cooked up some spaghetti as soon as he got home, thus saving me from finishing the jar of olives for dinner. And I did feel a bit awesome because I was able to produce a loaf of bread to go with the spaghetti, because I had some chilled dough in the fridge.
{one good thing}
Big sigh. Just a little reminder that no one's life is perfect, even if it looks that way sometimes (at least, this is what I tell myself, over and over again). Also, we just finished week eleven of the shopping hiatus (one week to go!) and we're rocking it. No slip ups at all.
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