Must be the full moon

I'm usually pretty cool.

I mean, I juggle three jobs that work me 46+ hours per week, sneak in visits with Grandma, the occasional arts & crafts project, cook enough so that I only eat one meal out per week, do the laundry, wash the dishes and weed, plant and maintain my gardens. Occasionally I even clean my house.

I manage it pretty well most of the time. Days off include giant checklists that get whittled down bit by bit, enough sitting down to make up for the job that's 30+ hours on my feet, and plenty of catching up on TV shows.

I take it all in stride. I work hard and I rest hard. When I'm able, I sleep 9-12 hours per night, which makes up for the seasonal insomnia and short nights between 14 hour days.

I'm not sharing this so you feel sorry for me. I don't feel sorry for myself. I love what I do. I'm just exhausted.

Yesterday, I had a moment of panic. I felt like I was adrift. Like I was being batted around by the forces of the universe without a way to redirect myself. Without a way to just stop for a minute, an hour, a day, a week.

I mean, I clearly need a vacation. It's also springtime. My usual season for wanderlust, for entropy, for ennui. I was due for a freak out and got one...during the 30 minutes I had to think while going from one job to another.

It will all work out. Always does. Eventually. In the meantime, I am going to focus on putting away the clean laundry from last week, clearing off the coffee table and getting new tires on my car so I can hit the road when the urge, and the opportunity strike.

End freak out. Begin looking at the flowers outside the house again.