Ever get in one of those grooves when you know you have a million things to do and you aren’t showered or dressed for half of them?
Let me re-phrase that: Ever get in one of those grooves when you know you have a million things to do and you ARE showered or dressed for them? If so, please send me detailed instructions on how you got there and what it looks like. It must be pretty.
It’s been a strange couple of days, and I guess that’s why I haven’t felt like posting. I had the kids for a longer stretch than usual because I switched out a night to attend a barely-post-dawn conference call and couldn’t have the kids in the house. Funny how you can really feel that one extra day.
I am going to Chicago early tomorrow to attend my great-aunt’s funeral. It’s especially sad because she is the last of that generation in my family. And it’s not just the loss of a person, it’s also the loss of the last of the great family gathering places. They sold up last year. We are finally at that point: instead of gathering for all the holidays and birthdays, we gather for weddings and funerals. It’s like a final wave flowing over us, tugging as it passes.
I’ve also heard from three different friends, each with their own twist. Each contact was transforming in its own way; one has left a relationship, one is leaving, one is embarking. I didn’t see any of it coming—how could I, with all this distance and time between us? It’s sobering. I’m still grateful for the ties, as there are so few strong ones left.
Also? The ants are back. Not in hordes like before, but one at a time, strolling across the table or my desk. Never more than one at a time. It’s like they are trying to be unobtrusive, hands in pockets, whistling and saying, “Who, me?” when I see them. *FLICK across the room*
Their re-emergence coincided with a groveling letter of apology from the exterminator company. I sent them a scathing, two-page letter firing them a while back.* They tried to call once and then sent a letter offering to make it up to me. I thought that was funny. I actually saw the number on the phone and didn’t pick up so I know they only called once and didn’t leave a message. I think no one wanted to actually speak with me after reading my letter.
Just now, I took my daughter’s blankies and doll over to preschool so she’ll have them for her nap after lunch. Dad couldn’t find them as he was rushing around getting all three ready for school and I was on my three-hour call. I tiptoed in the door and left them in her cubby, peeking over at the story circle just in time to see her pink-headbanded head turn toward me. I slipped out before she knew I’d been there.