Falling Behind

While I'm loving the new job, I admit I'm still struggling with fitting everything I want to accomplish into any given day, week or month. I'm behind on e-mails, laundry, freelance work, reading, blogging, Twitter, and meal planning. The cats barely recognize me because they never see me and if anyone were to come over and give my house the white-glove test, I would die a thousand deaths of embarrassment. My mom recently asked, "How hard is it to clean the new house?" My reply: "I wouldn't know." 

I don't know why I'm startled to find that not having an extra six hours a day to run errands, work out, blog, write or nap would set me behind, but I am. Getting off work at 2:30 sounds ideal, and it is, but I'm not getting anywhere near the amount of things done that I thought I would with the time that's left to me. 

"It's about prioritizing," says Blair. 

I agree, but what goes? Workouts remain a priority as does writing. I'm not willing to eat crap food and as much as I'd like to cross "laundry" off the list, at some point I'm going to need clean towels and underwear. What's falling behind now is housework and it leaves me feeling uneasy. I'm strongly affected by environment and crumb-covered countertops, piled up mail or finger-smudged glass tabletops bother me, probably more then they should. 

On the bright side, part of the reason I'm behind is because we're living the life we hoped to live when we decided to move to Greensboro. We go out more, meet friends for dinner or drinks on the spur of the moment or have people over. I still say to Blair at least once a day, "I LOVE living in Greensboro." We both agree it's one of the best decisions we've ever made. 

And I'll find my rhythm. I'm not too worried about it. We're still settling in, painting rooms, finding our patterns. There's even a tiny (and I do mean TINY) part of me that's enjoying the messy house. I've always longed to be one of those live-in-the-moment-and-focus-only-on-what's-in-front-of-you-and-let-the-rest-go people. I'll never even come close, but the messy house, for me, is a little taste of letting go and life on the wild side. 

That's right. I'm all about the crazy. 

Cheers,

Dena