Over the past month neither I nor my extended family have experienced any heart attacks, police brutality, terrible prenatal diagnoses, governmental oppression, untimely death, mysterious bacterial infection, bankrupcy, or really anything else awful. (Except for my poor brother and his ruptured appendix, but he's better now.)
What we have experienced is the following, in reverse chronological order:
three-day visit from my brother
whirlwind two-day camping trip
one-day visit from my brother
start of new writing class
day of visiting with friends here from out of town for weddings
procurement of clothes and gifts for twelve-hour wedding
A being out of town for several days
my parents visiting for five days
crazed cleaning and organizing in preparation for my parents' visit
These are all good things. All! But. There are two cubic yards of clean, unfolded laundry on the living room floor. I am behind on work. And on consulting work. And I haven't been running regularly, or taking my vitamins. I am aware of my heart beating all the time and nervous talking on the phone and don't know what to do with my hands.
Time for a break! I mean, past time for a break. This weekend A is taking the girls to grandma's, where there will be a massive post-solstice barbecue that all the extroverts in the family think is going to be a hoot. I will spend Saturday doing my required work shift talking to people I don't know about things I don't know very much about, and then come home and lie on the couch until I summon the energy to get up and start to dig myself out of the work hole.