November 05, 2004 - 2:08 p.m.

Sponsor me in the 2005 MS Walk! Why? Read here.

Adopt a Soldier!

There are so many things crowding in my brain today that I'm not sure this will make for a comprehensible entry, but I'll try.

---

I'm still at 1650 words. Not sure what made me think that NaNoWriMo was a good idea this year. I may have to just face the facts: I do not have the discipline necessary to be a real writer. If I could just accept that and move on, we'd all be better off. Instead, I've built in another month full of guilt.

---

There is never enough money. This is something else I should just accept. Somewhere, something's gotta give. And in the current household economy, it's always going to be the things you want but don't need. And the reality is that we really don't need much. Heat within, a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes that at least come close to fitting. We don't need craft supplies (even when we have really good Joanne's coupons about to expire on the kitchen table) or Christmas presents bought at craft fairs this weekend (because the people we love don't really NEED anything, either) or a recording of that song we can't get out of our heads.

That said, though, it's just as important to feed your SOUL as it is to feed your body, and sometimes we DO need things like craft supplies and trips to craft fairs and new music. But it's the balance that's important.

I hate balance.

I miss the days where my money was all mine and I could do with it what I wanted, like buy silver strappy shoes with great big high heels from John Fleuvog just because I wanted to make the Artboy-turned-ex-boyfriend sorry he'd told me he still loved her. Or snowboarding lessons because I needed to fill my brain with something non-Artboy related.

On second thought, maybe I don't miss those days after all. Just the stuff.

Not that I don't still have the heels, mind you. But it's a little hard to chase a crawling baby in strappy silver high heels.

---

Carla and I had a conversation about housekeeping the other day that I just can't shake. We both grew up in houses where the beds were changed once a week like clockwork, whether they needed it or not. Where the laundry was back in your drawers, folded and ready to wear again, within 12 hours of your taking it off. Where dishes never sat in the sink, and where there didn't seem to be piles of anything. At least, that's how it seems in my memory. Not that my mom was a FANATIC housekeeper, but she managed to keep our house in good order all the time.

On Halloween, Will and I trick-or-treated at the next door neighbors' house, mostly because I wanted to introduce myself. Turns out they have five-month-old twins. One of them is named Will--odd coincicidence, especially when you consider that the Husband and his best friend grew up across the street from each other and share the same name. None of that is really important to our story, though--what is important is that they have two babies under the age of six months and their house )at least the downstairs) is spotless.

My house is not. And I don't change my bed once a week. In all honesty, it's about once every three weeks. And even that might be generous. I just don't think about it, at least not until it becomes unavoidably obvious that it needs to be done. I figure it can't bother the Husband too much, since he doesn't do it, either.

Where did I lose the housekeeping gene? And is there something I can take to make it come back?

---

I don't want to say too much about the election. There isn't anything to say that other people haven't already said (and probably better than I ever could), so I will just say that I cried when I watched John Kerry speak and leave it at that.

---

The bebe is awake--I guess my entry is over.

Brain still feels crowded, dammit. I guess that's what I get for slipping back to one entry a week. (See: lacking discipline)

---------------------------------------------

Something to say about this entry?
Add your comments here (3 people have spoken already)

< GRRR! I hate the entry eater! | The end of a good run and the beginning of some serious wifely nagging >

How old is Will?