Begging for a Breather

Could the world just stop for a minute and let me get off?

This morning I did 30 minutes on the treadmill, got dressed, packed four lunches, did two loads of laundry, had breakfast, washed the kitchen floor and hustled the kids off to school.

Then I went to work. I have six different manuals on the go, all of which have to get done by the end of next week, and all of which are stalled as I chase down information from co-workers who are swamped with their own projects.

After work, I go straight to the school to pick up the kids and take them home, where I will do two more loads of laundry, cut the grass, clean the bathrooms and make supper.

And this isn’t even a busy day. Many times we have soccer practice or some other appointment that we have to rush off to. I sat down the other day to plan out our meals for next week, and I realized that almost every day is a rush job. When will I ever have time to cook a substantial meal? Most days I have maybe half an hour to throw something together.

And I only work part time!

As a society, we tend to define ourselves by how busy we are. Parents are always one-upping each other with their tales of jam-packed schedules. But is the nuttiness really worth it?

I realize this is why people take vacations. But two weeks a year is not enough to regain a sense of sanity. No one ever lies on their deathbed wishing they’d spent more time rushing around.

My job ends in nine weeks. Hallelujah.