Wholehearted Avoidance

There are dishes in my sink at this moment. They're making fun of me. They taunt me with the need to get them done. I don't like them. At least, not when they're dirty. When they're clean they tend to be much nicer.

There's laundry in my basket, waiting to be put away. If I got them done there might be actual socks to put on in the morning. Pretty white socks. Not the Christmas ones with the hole in the toe. Or the St. Patrick's Day green set with the black band along the top that makes my impossibly white legs look even more glaringly white.

There's a bed in my room that hasn't been made. The sheets are actually inviting me to climb on in and spend some quality time being unconscious. Just for a little while. Temptress.

There are leaves around my rose bushes. Last fall a pipe burst and flooded the street, bringing with it leaves and mud and twigs that all nestled happily around my roses. I didn't have the desire nor the energy to get them taken care of last fall. Apparently I still don't, though I've made a little bit of progress by purchasing some new gardening gloves. They're still sitting in a bag.

There's a story that needs to be worked on. It's for a Relief Society activity I'm doing in a few weeks. I have the basics put down, but filling it is far too taxing on my brain. My brain is too delicate these days. Maybe it needs a nap. What was I saying about my bed?

There are e-mails to write. To darling people whom I absolutely love and adore. But again, brain energy required. And my brain is screaming at me to stop writing on this blog. How can I possibly put together witty letters to entertain the masses? Or the few? Or even just one?

There is a window screen to fix. It kinda, sorta came apart yesterday when I walked out of the house and realized the jacket I grabbed was not the jacket I needed. The jacket I grabbed belonged to my son. The jacket I needed had a certain pocket that held a certain set of keys. Keys that would get me back into the locked house. Keys that would make the car go so I could get my kids to school. So Mr. B and I headed around the house quickly praying I'd been neglectful with at least one window - and I had. Happily for me Mr. B is still small and spry enough to fit through said window without injury and let me back in. To find the jacket. With the keys.

Yep. I am living a life of wholehearted avoidance this morning. I just don't wanna. Well, maybe the nap thing I wanna, but everything else will have to wait until the enormity of the situation at last drives me to at last make a little dent in the to-do list. The dishes MIGHT get done, and the socks may ACTUALLY find a home in my drawer. We'll just have to wait and see.