Not Enough Day

I've been struggling lately. Struggling with the feeling that there's just too much to do, and not enough 'day' in which to cram it.

I know everybody over the age of 13 has probably had this thought at some point in their lives. Seriously. I know I'm not alone in this. My days, at the onset, just feel so long. I lay there in bed fantasizing about how much I can accomplish in the next 15-ish hours, and then the day starts, and it's over in a flash and I just lay in bed thinking "what just happened?".

Maybe I'm too ambitious. I just get these grandiose ideas in my head of the things I will do, and the things I will tackle in my day. I fantasize about baking fresh bread every week like my Aunt does (I know, we're eating low-carb, but there's just something so wife-y about baking fresh bread that I can't get out of my head). I imagine my house perfectly clean and entirely organized, with labels on everything. I imagine having meals planned out for the whole month so I don't have to think about it. I imagine having a whole category in the photo section of my phone that's just dedicated to pictures of me in my best outfits, so I can figure out what to wear for the day without changing four times before 7:30 in the morning. In my fantasy I have endless hours after work to do super-awesome wife things like bring my husband a cold beer, and listen attentively to how his day was, and what's going on in his world, and bring him his warm slippers, and have awesome and interesting topics of conversation to enthrall him. In this perfect world, our dog would be trained to not lose her mind whenever anybody comes over. In this perfect world, she would also learn to stop pooping in the house out of nervousness sometimes while we're gone during the day.

I started the year with 12 books that I was going to read over the course of 12 months. It's almost all the way through March and I've only finished one and a half. I have a nasty habit of throwing laundry in the washer and forgetting to switch it over to dry, which usually results in washing it again a few days later before finally drying it. I have a serving dish in the dishwasher that I've run through three four separate dish-washing cycles, for the only reason that the dish belongs in the cabinet over the fridge, and I haven't felt like crawling up there to put it away. The cute basket on the back of our toilet is supposed to hold new rolls of toilet paper is now just empty, with the exception of two empty cardboard rolls just sitting there. Don't even ask me about our closet. It used to be one side for my clothes, one side for Kevin's clothes, but it's turned into more of a 70/30 ratio, and my clothes seem to be constantly on the verge of a hostile takeover. Our backyard garden is full of sticks and leaves, and the almanac said we were supposed to plant our veggie plants last weekend. Yesterday wasn't a proud day for my low-carb lifestyle when I scarfed down a thick piece of vanilla-y pound cake that I swiped from the conference room at work.

I know it's just a phase. Sometimes, though, I feel like Liz Lemon at Airport Security stuffing her teamsters sandwich in her face while she wails "I can have it all!" through muffled mouthfuls.

Have an awesome Friday, everybody. I'm off to work on my Night Cheese.