when someone needs to tell you to take a timeout

Signs I’m about ten miles past my sit-this-round-out stage:

**  Christmas came.  Christmas went.  I can’t say I give two hoots about when I get the decorations put away again.  ‘Tis the season.

**  I find myself wondering if it’s possible to burn the candle from more than two ends.

**  I’m dropping off kids in holey t-shirts so I can avoid doing another load of laundry before packing.

**  Christmas cards were a no go for the first time in forever.  I have hopes to send Happy New Year (I did the best I could with December) cards, but I’m starting to think it might be more like Happy Valentine’s Day greetings.

**  We were beach bound, my feet are a wreck, and my toenails are lacking their trademark red.  Not a crisis.  But definitely not typical pre-beach behavior.

**  I’m less concerned with the amount of clean underwear on hand than the amount of great reading material.

**  Lost permission slips, missed deadlines, surprise school commitments, and one 24 hour notice for classroom cupcakes.


It’s most definitely time for a new year.  2017, let’s go.

2 thoughts on “when someone needs to tell you to take a timeout

  1. Relatable.
    I took the tree down Monday night and I HAVEN’T VACUUMED, Laura! There’s a basket of whites on the washer from Sunday, all dried, haven’t folded, matched…
    Tired. Need schedule. Dying of apathy. Send help. LOL

    Liked by 2 people

    • Sending you my round of applause for getting the tree down. Eventually you’ll track all those bits out of your house anyway.
      All I’ve managed to do is sit our stockings and one Santa figure on the dining room table. Maybe I’ll collect up some more Santas/angels this afternoon, but I doubt it. Tree might come down Saturday. Maybe. If it snows and the kids’ ball games are cancelled.
      No idea what hubby used for his shower this morning — I was barely awake when he asked if there were any clean towels in the house and I just blinked at him.
      Was only motivated to put a load into the wash by the damp, mildewy smell of swimsuits wafting out of suitcase. Only 5 or 6 loads to go now. Shoot me.
      Your pets will never let you die of apathy…they will lick you to death first. 😉


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