Oh Is That All

Inspirational song: Too Much Time on My Hands (Styx)

Tonight's inspirational song is not necessarily the truth. It's more "too much stuff to do and I can't budget my time to save my life." The next two weeks are going to be stressfully busy for me and even though lots of the things I'm going to be doing will be fun, I am dreading pretty much every second of it. I know I'll end up in the sun too much, standing too much, sleeping too little, agreeing to add in tasks even when I ache all over, and I have already committed more money than I really have. But I'm going to do all of it anyway. I just might not be able to do much at all between about June 28 and July 3. I'm already not sleeping enough. I was up until 2 Friday night/Saturday morning, and I woke up at 6 to let the dogs out and never went back to bed. By 1:30 Saturday night/Sunday morning I admitted to myself that I was too wide awake to sleep and I started in on Twitter and texting with the daughter who still works nights. Same story, I woke early to let the dogs out, but I at least pretended I would go back to sleep until nearly 8. It's bedtime now, and although my body is three clicks beyond ultimate exhaustion, my mind is still telling me I have to think about everything right now, now, now. I tried to relax in the hot tub for the first time in a week, and all good feeling from there is already dissipated. What have I done to turn on the afterburners? Whatever it is, I hope I can figure out how to stop soon. I guess I have to keep them on for the next two weeks, though, at least until I have shown two clients homes this week, most likely writing up one offer, and maybe a second at the end of the week, attended a Rotary day out management seminar and small business owner lecture on Tuesday, made signs for the upcoming 100th Anniversary of the Rotary Foundation picnic ("Keepin' It 100"), bought supplies I'm donating, worked a booth, gone to a follow up with the gastroenterologist (finally), mowed the lawn (this is a huge job for me), and sorted through everything I've pulled out of cupboards, looking for junk to donate. I'm sure there is more, but this is enough to make me wish I drank more, or was willing to partake in the state plant more than once in a blue moon. In fact, writing it all out has made me feel somewhere between queasy and catatonic. Maybe it's worth seeing whether bedtime has any meaning for me tonight.