The trouble with time

There’s just not enough, is there? Get up, get ready, pack lunches, feed kids, feed the dog, get dressed, get THEM dressed, drop the kids off, go to work, work, come home, unpack, stop fights, walk the dog, cook dinner, eat dinner, feed kids, feed the dog, break up more fights, clean up, send them to bed, send them to bed again, send them to bed AGAIN, clean up a bit more then Phew, it’s time to sit down and study for a few hours. Only, your tired and cranky and just plain over it. Your brain won’t work and Facebook or bad TV is just so soothing to your frazzled nerves.

You know what would help? Brownies. Not the chocolate sort, the ones in fairy tales that clean up your house when your not looking. And if you say ‘but my husband does some/most/all of the cleaning’, I will slap you. Not kidding.

I am not a domestic goddess. I’m sitting on a couch covered in broken biscuits, courtesy of a small tantrum over afternoon naps. There is a pair of smelly work boots next to me, a dress hung over a chair that’s been there almost a week and the furniture looks like Dorothy’s house after the tornado struck. There is, however, apple pie in the oven. I think I should eat it all.

I’ve had a long week. Not much study done, too busy with work trainings, first aid certification (yay, finally done!), long commutes and stuff to do. My weekend, the traditional catch up slot, is 3/4 over. I have to clean the couch, do the floors, eat the pie, fix the furniture, cook dinner, wash clothes, sort clothes, then when the house is finally quiet, get stuck into some coursework…. And here I was just going to do a yoga class, relax a bit and study for an exam.

If only perfect worlds existed.

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