I have misled you. You think something super exciting is going on. Well, hate to disappoint, but it’s not exciting. So sorry. And now you’re here hoping to see that I’m pregnant or something, but really this is just a post featuring me whining.
Like that’s new. So, really, it’s your fault you’re here.
Okay, so here’s the scoop. I’ve added some hours to my work schedule. Actually, a lot of hours. Another freelance writing gig to last for several weeks. This is great and I know I should feel blessed to have THREE jobs when some people don’t even have one, but I also feel panicked about 24 hours per day. No, wait…six hours of sleep subtracted from 24…18. EIGHTEEN HOURS per day.
Now T Junior has to go to day care all day Monday through Friday. Luckily, he likes it – gets to play with his friends, do crafts and preschool stuff. But I am Catholic so I have the guilt. And, oh yeah, I will be working on the weekends, too.
I’m having to learn some new stuff and a new system of doing things, and it’s a challenge, you guys. It’s really hard to get in the zone. But it is only Day 3, so hopefully I’ll get it down. I think by the end of Day 5, I should have it. Right? RIGHT?
You know what my biggest source of stress is, though. The freaking dishes. They just pile up in the sink so fast. It’s like they are dish bunnies. Someone should start a service. A dish cleaning service! You just show up mid-day when the homeowner is at work and do their dishes. You don’t need to worry about cleaning the whole house – nobody can afford that. But I can afford 30 minutes for dishes. I think. How much would a dish-washing person charge, you think? Because I would pay. It’d be nice if they wiped down the countertops, too. Maybe that’s a bonus. I’d tip more for that.
Anyway, I still have my regular part-time job in the middle of the week, and so I can run during my lunch hour, and I can get up at 5 and do weights before work, but I haven’t been on my bike and I missed my last long run.
So, let’s count: Now I have 2 freelance jobs and 1 part-time job, 1 kid, 1 husband, 2 dogs and 18 hours.
Honestly, I was hoping this post was going to make me feel better. You know, get it out there! Release the stress, but it just made me think about how much I have to do, and how little time I have to do it in, and how much I don’t want to suck at this new gig…and now I’m feeling scared.
It’s funny. I look at running and at sports-type challenges, and I’m as confident as Tom Brady before a Seahawks game (what what—yeah, I went there). But for stuff where I have to use my brain, I doubt myself more than a squirrel deciding whether or not it wants to run in front of a speeding car. (Please don’t judge me by my similes.)
Aaaanyway. That’s all.