Oh, I get so tired of The Shoulds. I am sitting here, looking comfy and relaxed on the outside, but berating myself on the inside for all of the things I should be doing. The Almighty List of Things to Do is being read over an over inside my head, in a clanging loop, and I just can’t reason with that voice.
Grammy and Poppy just left this morning for home. They know I love having them, and we had a really, really great week – it’s been so long since they visited us up here! But everyone understands, I’m sure, that it would be perfectly acceptable to revel in some alone (The Boy is of course here too, so alone-together?) time after house guests depart. To just sit, do what one wants to do for awhile, enjoying the ambient sounds of a pretty-decent-outside-for-once Saturday coming in through the windows?
But not those nagging, mean-as-hell Shoulds. They are reminding me of the house showings coming up this week, that looming deadline to get the monumental task of making the house look respectable. Oh, and also the usual chores of the weekend. And the million-and-one things I have yet to do before our big move in oh-my-God-seven weeks…
I hate The Shoulds. I hate it even more when they’re right.