Today is the last day of the Christmas break and, true to form, there are mountains of clean, but unfolded and now terribly wrinkled, laundry sitting in various places in the my bedroom. Speaking of my bedroom, it remains the dusty, disorganised disaster area that it was on December 19 (or October 1, for that matter). The kitchen floor is still crying to be washed (although it has been swept at least once in the last two weeks) and there is still a gerbil living in my bathtub. The play room downstairs remains the scary, dungeon-like place that it has been for the last ten years, and besides toys, contains our filing cabinet full, mostly, of utter crap.
There is still a door missing from our pantry, making the kitchen seem more messy than it really is. Arnold took the door down last August. Sure, it's his job to put it back on, but it is my job to nag him about it until he reaches the point that he can't take the sound of my voice anymore. I have even failed at that.
And, of course, I have been to Wal-Mart twice over the holidays, but have still not purchased new underwear.
My feelings go from panic (will the kids have clean clothes for school tomorrow? Will I? Will I be able to find all of the mittens, snow pants, toques? Is there mould in the lunch kits? What will my to-do list look like at work tomorrow?) to disappointment, to ambivalence and finally, to the hope that perhaps 2009 will, by some miracle, be different.
2 comments:
Hey, can a Failed Daddy join the club, because this all sounds very familiar!
And the honorary failed mommy concurs. This is just human nature. I think each of us has that same list of chores that never gets done, because sleeping in, watching DVDs, reading, or napping seems like a better idea on any given day, especially when it is -43 outside. And the thing is, we feel guilty as all getout about accomplishing nothing, but somehow life goes on. So how important was the list anyway? In reality, not so much.
So, I'll let you off your hook if you let me off mine.
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