Uncomfortable

I am so uncomfortable right now. The mess is huge in my house. Every corner, every surface reflects a big project back to me. The garage is so full it is practically oozing stuff. The back yard, my space, is littered with hen poop, dog poop and way too many cats. I have ideas I am aching to act on, but the laundry list of things to do before the creativity can begin is soooo long. It makes me tired, exhausted actually, to think of all that I need to do. Sometimes I wish I could be a cat, my only requirement for the day, to log my twenty hours of sleep, the only hard choice - to sleep under the covers of Kieran's bed or curled up on Cadence's chair amongst the pillows? My husband walks in, looks at me and thinks, "she's at her computer again." Little does he know. The work seems to be my destiny, the cost of what is to be here, now. Oh, I forgot to mention the piles of bills, papers, essential and urgently important PTA stuff that needs to be addressed last week. It is all piled like layers of mica rock, slippery and unstable, ready to slide off my desk. I am now taking this moment to write to you and to myself this reminder of the bigger picture. This is all temporary. The discomfort, the mess, the hen poop and the cats are but a flash in time, insignificant details to pepper my life this morning with the seasoning required to establish a culinary contrast . These are the acrid spices of my dish alone. They are but the palate cleanser for the fun, deliciously satisfying main course that will be served when I have cleared my plate (and my garage).