The kids have been out of town for five days and this is what I’ve done:
1. Slept in until 8am without even waking up at 6 and forcing myself to go back to sleep.
2. Went to happy hour with girlfriends and drank pink champagne (technically it was sparkling rose).
3. Tried a new restaurant (BLD) for brunch with the hubs. Enjoyed chicken and waffles and a breakfast Monte Cristo.
4. Saw Moonrise Kingdom in the middle of the day. Cried, not because it was really sad, but because I loved it so much.
5. Went to ballet class first thing in the morning before work appointments.
6. Drank a flight of rose at D-Vine, a wine restaurant near our house we’d never been to before. Decided rose is my favorite summer wine.
7. Caught up on the mountains of paperwork I was behind on for work.
8. Caught up on True Blood and Newsroom and made progress on Game of Thrones (*GASP* Not Eddard!).
9. Ran 7 miles on the treadmill (in two gym trips). Watched Betty Draper have her baby on Mad Men while I did.
10. Ran around like a maniac and put out what I can only hope was the final fire on a particularly cursed real estate deal, without having to worry about finding a sitter for the kids.
It has been fairly glorious and decadent, I admit.
And even though they’ve been gone for approximately 112 hours, this is what I still have not managed to accomplish:
1. Cleaning the house. Toys lay where they were dropped just before we piled into the car to head to the airport. Books and papers are stacked on the counters. I don’t think it’s really messier, but it sure as hell isn’t any cleaner than when they left.
2. Catching up on my reading for my book group that’s reading Infinite Jest. I’m now several hundred pages behind.
3. Ordering my biz cards or doing any pre-networking I need to do for BlogHer in less than a month.
4. Folding and putting away any bit of the mountains of clean laundry that is taking over the floor in my bedroom.
5. Cleaning out the fridge or grocery shopping.
6. Any progress at all on the baby quilt for my nephew that I started over a year ago.
7. Writing the great and brilliant novel I know lives inside me. Or even thinking about writing it. Or even thinking about writing the many subpar novels I’m sure live inside me and are in line in front of the really great one.
8. Getting ahead of any of the blogging I will need to do over the next 6 weeks (three of which I will be out of town).
9. Getting the mail even once since the kids left (I’m in serious mail-avoidance mode).
10. Organizing my email inboxes or updating my contact lists. 30,000 emails and counting, People.
I guess the point is, if I didn’t have kids I might go to the gym more consistently and be slightly less frenetic on a regular basis. I would definitely watch more movies and TV and would likely get more sleep. I would probably be completely sick of happy hour and eating out at new restaurants. But I still probably wouldn’t be a published novelist, prolific crafter or even have a cleaner house. I certainly wouldn’t be any more organized or thinner.
I’m so busy, I don’t have any time has become my battle cry. And to anyone who knows me, knows my schedule and how much I run around, it seems legitimate. But it’s only an excuse. Poor Time and his limits are just my scapegoat. The truth is I would choose any other activity in the world rather than clean my house and I’m too lazy or just plain terrified to try and fail at some of my bigger dreams.
So here I am, admitting I have a problem. They say that’s the first step, right?