Take A Deep Breath

It’s been a while since I posted.  I could use a few excuses, but guess that isn’t very productive so I’ll just take a deep breath and jump right back into the blogging pool.  When I am working myself into a lather my mother loves to tell me, “Now, Sheri, take a deep breath and count to ten.”  This is her way of settling me down, but usually it just serves to set my jaw and bow my back…HOWEVER, I will admit that I usually do realize that I am being ridiculous and need to cool my jets a little.  After all, contrary to my super-ego’s belief, I am not God and cannot control the world from on top of my high horse.  So, Mom, kudos.  I’ll let you be right and take a deep breath once in a while, swallow my pride and take a step towards the next step…which, in this case is getting blogging.

Lately life has been rolling at one pace…fast.  I hit the ground running and stop when I collapse on the couch, drooling and mumbling, “I didn’t get it all done…not all done…no, no, not all done.”  Then I drift off into oblivion with ESPN Classic Bull Riding on.  Usually about 9…usually about the 9th bull rider with Donnie Gay’s voice ringing in my head, “…needs to cowboy up.”  Then, I dream that I need to “cowboy up”…get tough, fix the world, clean the office, scrub the toilets, write a letter to Aunt Mable and…and…and…and take a deep breath…pick up one rock at time and move it.

I’m going to go “cowboy up” right now.  I’ve taken that deep breath and I’m ready to move the world one rock at a time.  Current rock:  Get back in the saddle writing my blogs again.  Check.  Call my parents. Check.  Spend 10 minutes working at cleaning the office.  Not check yet….Throw away 10 things in that office…not check yet.  Go do it…Check.  Bye, gotta go continue with this deep breath moment and set the timer.

One Less Desk, Six more piles

My son needed a small desk for his office/laundry room. Since he has given me four beautiful grandchildren and a granddog I attempt to kiss his bottom and help out when it is feasible. I have two desks I really don’t use for anything except stashing and piling things on and with my great skills in both stashing and piling, I have decided I can get along without one of the desks in my office.

I was in my usual hurry this morning. I was supposed to be 90 miles away in two and a half hours. I like to be early…hate to be late and in this case refused to be late as I was going to babysit the grandkids…but I decided to measure the door of my car and see if the desk would fit in the back seat…an idea my husband had scoffed at on an earlier trip…Hey! Surprise! It was just tall enough to possibly squeeze in. I figured I had about 15 minutes to work with so being the amazing time manager I am, I grabbed a couple of boxes and started emptying drawers. I dumped and stacked the drawer…dumped and stacked the drawer…seven times. Then, I started dragging the desk around the table in the middle of the office toward the door. Oops, bumped my Mary Kay delivery bag box…they crashed on the floor. No time to pick them up. Crud, knocked off a box of catalogs and samples. No time to pick them up. Next, while wiggling the desk to get past something on the right, I nudged something on the left, tripped into one of the boxes I’d emptied drawers into and watched one pile of the to-be-filed sales slips slip to the floor. That must be why they are called slips. Okay, drag and pull, push and wedge…after one grand attempt, to re-thinks and a massive surge of strength, the desk was ensconced in the back seat of my car.

I felt a huge sense of satisfaction and a large amount of smugness at proving my husband wrong. Then I raced into the office to grab the last two drawers. Oh, shoot, what a mess. If I had found just a few minutes more, I could have stashed and piled my way to at least a little floor space, but the clock was ticking, the grandkids were waiting and I had to go. Tomorrow I’ll work miracles…Or they’ll work me…don’t know which. It’s just a few more piles.