I'm really struggling in the wake of the holidays. All around me is disaster and disorder, and I just can't seem to get a handle on it.
The solution would seem to be simple: Clean it up, just a little at a time if necessary. The biggest trouble has been that the time in which to do so is fleeting (the children and I spend all day in one room, which is one of the least problematic in the house), and the sheer sight of the job I have to do zaps whatever energy remains to me when opportunities arise for me to take advantage.
It's a vicious cycle. The situation depresses me, which leaves me more and more incapable of rectifying it.
Enter Tom, who is always eager to poke me with a stick and try to nudge me out of my funk. It seems that the big message to me this Christmas, granted via an array of generous gifts, was that I should get back to my artistic tendencies. I viewed each offering with great appreciation, but in the back of my mind I wondered when I would ever get around to using the wonderful things I now had at my disposal, especially when there are so many more urgent things to be doing.
However, I suppose it's time I'm honest with myself. Those urgent things aren't getting done regardless, so perhaps it's time to focus more on myself instead and hope that good things come of the attempt.
One of the gifts was an embroidery hoop that I've long been lacking, so this evening Tom dropped a package in my lap that has been sitting unopened since its purchase on our honeymoon, over three years ago. "I think it's time you started this," he said.
I suppose his approach is worth a try. Even if my living room is never restored, at least I'll have something pretty to hang on the wall above the mess.