Last weekend, I did my taxes like a good soldier and only wailed about it for 48 hours. I think that's appropriate. I mean, for a person with a 20 question limit, just dealing with the likes of TurboTax for hours is enough to make one want to do something that seems more enjoyable...like cleaning toilets or wrestling hair out of the tub drain.
That 20 question limit quirk in my personality is due to being raised by an inquisitive female who loves the details of life. She tried desperately to converse with her grumpy, hormonal teenager (ahem, me) by asking questions about everything from the people who were there to the type of food that was served. I used to find it a little intrusive...until I had kids. It is one revealing way that I can most assuredly say that I've turned into my mother. Which, honestly, doesn't bother me in the least.
I'd say that it was awesome to finally get finished with the taxes...and the FAFSA form for Brian (the nightmare of every parent of college-aged children)...but that joy was short-lived. Because after a couple of weeks of just keeping the kitchen clean and letting the rest of it go because it was imperative that I get this paperwork out of my life, my house was (and still is) crying out for attention.
Fortunately, I was (and am) able to ignore it. For the most part, anyway.
I've been spending the past few days trying to get back into my normal cleaning routine...which has clashed mightily with my fervent desire to pick up the pace a bit at the gym. When you come home feeling like you've been in a fight and sweating like it's August in the South, there is nothing less appealing than the prospect of cleaning the bathroom.
Except, perhaps, doing more taxes. Or another FAFSA.
Now that Big Dave and I are empty nesters, the issue isn't so much clutter...as it is dust. For whatever reason, we seem to attract dust, and as soon as I beat it back, the dust fairy comes back by and sprinkles what feels like a garden Hefty bag of it all over my house. Big Dave says that the "dust fairy" is actually named Dixie (and Riley), but this looks like some insidious plot to make me call in the reinforcements.
Merry Maids.
Except who can afford that? Answer: not me. Plus, I don't know if I could handle the embarrassment of having someone else all up in here thinking we're the laziest human beings alive. We're about two weeks away from the annual Spring Cleaning ritual...which can only happen if something totally ticks me off...because I clean like nobody's business when I'm working off angst. The rest of the time? More like the people who clean every office I've ever worked in (which can loosely be described as "half-a er...whatever.")
Other than the two inevitable things in life: dust and taxes...I'm also dealing with something called "muscle soreness." That's normally perceived as evidence that work is being done to move me ultimately toward my goal...the short version of which is "to no longer be morbidly obese and to get out of size OMG." But sometimes Pharrell (my scale) doesn't seem to appreciate all of that effort.
No, I'm not angry with Pharrell right now. He's doing what he's supposed to be doing...measuring my relationship with gravity. And over the past couple of days, the numbers have been headed in the right direction. But every so often, I'll get upset that I'll notice a tick up for a couple of days and have to weed something else out of the garden of choices that remain to me. Last week, it was avocado. I'd been using it with lemon juice to make salad dressing. Apparently, after two days of upticks...I had to realize that daily avocado is not my friend.
Not that it isn't an excellent option for getting fats in my diet. I just can't have it every day. I learned the same thing about potatoes, wheat, and the newest "superfood" - quinoa. Which, honestly, I don't really need to be eating something I can't pronounce anyway.
Enough about all of that.
I have been stunned this week at how fast this year seems to be blowing by...like it is in a hurry to get to 2015 or something. I realize that this is nothing new...the looking up and realizing that it already mid-March...when I just took the Christmas tree down what seems like a month ago. (It was actually two months ago because I was a slacker and left it up somewhere between "fashionably late so I can still enjoy it" and "major fire hazard.")
Before I know it, it will be mid-June and then August and then back to the holidays again. In fact, I received the first message about the annual "Girls of 1981 Beach Trip" yesterday...and in some ways it seems like we just got back. I'm already looking forward to it. I always enjoy them so much...and one year was advised by a roommate that I needed to have the fact that I quit breathing in the night checked out. So, also educational.
Which may explain the dust. I think I've dusted just a few days ago...when in truth...it may have been January since I dragged out the Pledge and attempted to shine everything up. Okay, FINE, it probably actually was. I've been working on these *#@* taxes since February, so it is entirely possible.
So, this week, I'll be trying to make time to do a little bit more around here instead of whining about it. Plus, all of that "moving" has got to help with the muscle soreness, yes? I certainly hope so.
On the downside, I have a lot in front of me. And since I'm easily distracted, I'll probably do something less awful like clean out the spice rack than something that actually needs to be done. I mean, until Dixie writes "dust me" with her paw in the dust on the side table...it's all good, right?
Exactly.
Have a great and productive week...and dust something in my honor. Maybe all of that Pledge in the atmosphere will inspire me. Hope so. :)
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