Sabbatical Off the Rails

The basement fireplace--I love it!

I'm stalled out. Off the rails. I did email the studio folks and set up lessons for September. But that email took me all day to write. Slightly pathetic efficiency. It's not healthy to run at this pace. My heart rate is dangerously low. I can't get a dang thing done. Yesterday I washed and made the bed. The clutter of everyday life takes up the space that is allotted. Does that make sense? This morning I have to drop Mary at church. Better not plan anything else. . .

It's not ground breaking news that I do better with a routine. I'm starting to panic that I won't be able to take back my studio in the next month. At least not at this rate.  

I couldn't have taught this summer with people here working on the back yard and the basement. It would have been too crazy. Everyday there is a fire to put out. For example: the sink faucet is too high and the medicine cabinet door won't open. Cut the legs of the base cabinet?  Raise the medicine cabinet?  Pick a shorter faucet?  They needed to know ten minutes ago.  

Yesterday the insurance adjuster was here. He was a swarthy little man who started picking a fight with me from the driveway. I'm not easy to fight with. I pretty much try to be a peace maker. When he started talking about sanding and painting the rough sawn cedar of our house I knew I was in trouble.  STOP! STOP! STOP!   STOP using the word paint. There is no paint on the house. . . it's called stain. Then he tried to convince me that a good power washing would take that "stain" right off and the wood would be back to "normal."  It's not my job to educate the insurance adjustor. While the man on the roof said everything looked fine. . . he did leave several pieces of broken off siding lying on the dormer. I asked him to go back up there and at least put the siding puzzle back together for the time being. . . seeing as there was no damage.  Bill. . . tag you are it. . . you call the little man back.  

I don't want to unnecessarily fill up the landfill with shingles.  But. . . I think we need a second opinion. Shingles?  They are those things you put on the roof that keep the water out of your bedroom. 

Am I rested?  I don't know?  Resting is a difficult thing to achieve. I put it on my to-do list. That should take care of it. It's right below type up the minutes from the June SPTG board meeting and print out the senior photos for the wall of fame. Also on the list? Get teacher trainer application from the Suzuki Association of the Americas. Work on it. Yawn. . . that's going to take a little more effort than I have in me today. 

One can spend the whole day deciding what kind of sandwich to make for dinner. Might have to stop and pick up a better avocado.  

So there you have it. I'm happy enough. But I think I'll do better with a little more pressure again. Deadlines spark creativity. My laundry room has not been clear for ten weeks since Mary Lynn helped me while I was in California. Everyone has clean underwear and that might just be good enough. 

Speaking of Mary Lynn, I'm going to wander outside and check to see if the baby fish she gave me are making an appearance yet.  I hope they are hiding under the rocks. 

Very difficult to keep the train of thought on the rails. Maybe a different kind of fish food would lure them out. 

What was I writing about?

Sabbatical is off the rails. Remind me to take a break next summer, but maybe not so long as to slip into a coma again. It's just not me. But there are a few weeks left and I'll try to get resting checked off the list.