Whew! The weekend is, more or less, over. Sunday is my absolute busiest day of the week. Well, that is, unless you count Monday through Saturday... then, its just a contest as to which day is the busiest. I don't know if you manage to stay that busy. I often wonder if the reason I'm so busy is because I don't think like other people; you know, organized. Actually, I don't really think that's the reason, though, because I know so many people who are just up to their earlobes in busy.
How d'ya' s'pose we got this way? So busy, I mean? As I understand it, our ancestors did all their own baking and cooking, cleaning, making their own clothes... by hand, hunting, fishing and who knows WHAT ALL. Still, they had time to sit down in the evening and enjoy a sunset, once in awhile. Don't believe me? Just ask Laura Ingalls Wilder. Or, Anne of Greene Gables. They knew how to find time for relaxing.
So, what am I doing wrong? I mean, my good hubby-buddy does everything in the house, just so I will have time to sit and write. And that's pretty-much all I do, too. Yet, here I am, scrambling to keep up with... MYSELF. There's gotta' be something wrong with that.
If you happen to walk by and see me doing something that is counter-productive, won't you please just step in and get me pointed in the right direction? Surely, you could help a fellow-blogger get back on track, couldn't you? Thanks.
Until the next time, keep a hug on.