We've really built an exhausting life.
And I think that is a blessing; but sometimes, sometimes, I just want to not be exhausted.
Right now, I am sitting in my living room, with a dirty look on my face, because there is a smell, that is definitely from the living room rug and it's growing in intensity, despite my best efforts to shampoo and scrub and clean, while interiorly shouting "Out Damn Spot." There is no spot, just a smell and the smell is never leaving. I have to throw out the rug, but that is exhausting and requires moving the couch (which also probably needs to be thrown out) and really, I just want to sit in a room without a smell.
Some sort of scentless paradise would be ideal.
Anyway, the days are filled with fantastic things. The nights are filled with parades and ghost walks and pumpkin carving and writing and cleaning and planning and preparing. We are so incredibly blessed with community and obligations. But, sometimes, it is just so endlessly tiring.
Right now, at 10:35pm at night, I am making an interior list of everything I need to get done by 10am tomorrow. And then, I am panicking that writing in this blog is taking too long, because I also desperately want time to relax without being asleep. I crave conscious quiet time. And that is the rub right--I just want to go to bed, but I really also want to stay awake so I don't miss any quiet moments.
And this is all my own doing. I've done this. And I'd love to undo this and become some sort of other non-exhausted, non-chaos making person. However, that simply is not possible. I know the moment I cancel things, I'll find other things to fill the free time. It is like my life is a big handbag--it begins empty by the end of the day it is filled with notebooks and recipients and masks and snacks and endless things that have no discernible home or relevancy to anything.
So, I just want to go to bed. But, here I am not going to bed.