I am generally considered to be an energetic and enthusiastic person. I work hard, volunteer frequently and with a glad heart, and tend to pack a lot of activity into a day. I’m the person that finds t hard to sit still on vacation. But lately, starting at about 2pm each day, I start dreaming of going home, getting into my pajamas, and sitting in front of the TV. I don’t know if this is a product of my age, some sort of hibernation instinct held over from the days of the caveman, or the evolution of some new Netflix instinct kicking in.
It takes me two days to complete a load of laundry, mostly because I can’t stay awake long enough to complete a wash cycle and move things to the dryer. And I won’t mention the number of times I’ve had to re-wash a load because our cat claimed squatters’ rights on a basket of folded laundry waiting to be put away.
The backyard is still filled with last year’s leaves, leaving the lawn underneath to look a bit bare. The glass bottles needing a trip to the recycling center are stacking up in the carport. By the time I get around to taking them in, I will be the talk of the county thanks to the backlog of wine and beer bottles.
And the other day, I actually wished, out loud, for a Corona virus quarantine so I could spend two weeks not catching up on yard work or the laundry, but binge watching TV and wearing nothing BUT my pajamas. People around here have been hoarding hand sanitizer, canned foods, and bottled water. I have been hoarding wine and comfort food.
I am ever hopeful that the spring will bring about a change in behavior for me. That I’ll be able to make it through a day of work without thinking about elastic waist bands and fuzzy slippers. Or that maybe when I arrive home from work, I’ll have a hankering to do some spring cleaning instead of a hankering for a baked potato.
It takes me two days to complete a load of laundry, mostly because I can’t stay awake long enough to complete a wash cycle and move things to the dryer. And I won’t mention the number of times I’ve had to re-wash a load because our cat claimed squatters’ rights on a basket of folded laundry waiting to be put away.
The backyard is still filled with last year’s leaves, leaving the lawn underneath to look a bit bare. The glass bottles needing a trip to the recycling center are stacking up in the carport. By the time I get around to taking them in, I will be the talk of the county thanks to the backlog of wine and beer bottles.
And the other day, I actually wished, out loud, for a Corona virus quarantine so I could spend two weeks not catching up on yard work or the laundry, but binge watching TV and wearing nothing BUT my pajamas. People around here have been hoarding hand sanitizer, canned foods, and bottled water. I have been hoarding wine and comfort food.
I am ever hopeful that the spring will bring about a change in behavior for me. That I’ll be able to make it through a day of work without thinking about elastic waist bands and fuzzy slippers. Or that maybe when I arrive home from work, I’ll have a hankering to do some spring cleaning instead of a hankering for a baked potato.