Whipped

I'm tired but I can't sleep. This time of year I always get a little depressed and end up staying up until the wee hours updating websites, making flyers, sending out emails, surfing the web--doing night-owl busy work so I don't have to think too hard. And even though I stay up until 1:30 a.m. I still have a post-it note crammed full of don't forgets.

Busy work. In the past month, we've repainted the front/parlor room THREE times. First too green. Then too blue. Then mamma bear got it just right--and made papa bear help paint the living room and dining room too. My worst fear happened. Worse than the freakin’ frown line that seems to be staging a hostile takeover of my forehead. I turned 40 and painted the house beige. “Cargo Pants” to be exact. A warm neutral. When did I turn into a warm neutral?

And I've been damned near obsessed with finding a kitchen table. I’d consider refinishing something found second-hand except that I also just finished a somewhat hellish staining project of the hutch I treated myself to for my 40th birthday. Stinky, sticky shelves were expertly and delicately propped along walls, atop plastic for over two weeks. Tomorrow the shelves get installed and dishes are gonna fly. I keep telling myself all of these upstairs projects need to be done so we can make room for the stuff still in boxes in the basement from our move.

I feel a little crazy. I'm whipped. I'm itchy. I'm about done waiting for spring. I'm going to start walking my way back to the light of day. I may just decide to sprint.

Tonight we went to a hockey game with my brother. I had a list of a dozen things I thought really needed to get done, but I thought, “No...they can wait.” The hockey game was fun. Really fun. And the world didn’t end because I relaxed. That frown line can go to hell.