Two nights ago I exercised and now I'm dying. AGAIN. I always think exercise ball exercising is going to be all fluff and kittens because really there's a lot of sitting and then the next day you can't sit down without weeping. Maybe that's the beauty of it, the exercise makes it so you can't sit down and there for you must burn more calories...uhm...standing. Anyway ow, and yay at the same time. I sort of love it when exercise kicks my ass like this because I know I did something right. Know what I mean?
I'm quite proud of myself just now, last night there was cleaning and exercise. Today I'm making lists. I love lists. I love them when I am actually crossing things off. Matt's birthday is Saturday and my current list is for all the things I need to do to make saturday birthday-y. I have to wrap presents, and buy a card, and what are we having for dinner and oh yeah the cake...which will probably be a pie. I'm sure there's more. I think I promised to oil soap the cabinets too because nothing says happy birthday like shining pine.
The cleaning of the cabinets is probably going to be his favorite gift. I must admit that since taking on this job I have been a very bad housekeeper. It seems to me that I used to actually wash the floor with a mop instead of just the swiffer and on occasion dust things. I tell you honestly that it's been a long while since I dusted, a dinosaurs roamed the earth amount of time. I don't mean to imply that Matt is a neat freak or a slave driver with the house cleaning. He doesn't make time to do it either so it's not like he complains. It's different when you own your own house though. He built those cabinets and the floor and everything else. Built as in cut the trees, sawed the wood, and used the boards to build the doors and the frames and to make the floor. It's very different than renting an apartment where you don't give a rat's ass about the patina or the scuffs and dents and probably you have crappy linoleum anyway. I really want to be taking care of the things he built for us. He doesn't get upset when I drop my knives and they stand straight up in the wood (I should have taken a picture it was awesome) because somethings you can't control (like me being a klutz). I can control the dirt and the scuffs so I should probably try harder to make time for it. Amongst other things.
I feel so busy and yet I get nothing done. It's not ok. I've been trying to stay up later and accomplish things that I can look back on and care about but it's really hard. I feel like I'm squishing the most important parts of my life into tiny holes of time and it's not really working. The hours at work aren't exactly awful until I step away from it and realize that all my time is spent here or worrying about here and it sucks that I have hardly any time for fun this summer. You wait so long for the snow to go away and then you spend all those beautiful hours in an office trying to keep an egotistical but strangely low-self esteemed boss in check. Weird.