Catching Up

I live in the perpetual land of never caught up. I am never caught up.

The laundry is never caught up. It seems just when I fold the last pair of tidey whities emblazoned with a spiderman or transformer, I glance in the corner and there is a dingy sock.

The house cleaning is never caught up. There seems to be a conspiracy between the dust bunnies, the dirt and the toys. All three are never really eradicated from any room. And let's not even begin to approach the reality of living with three potty trained men.

The shopping is never caught up. Children grow. Mine especially fast. The seasons are changing and the checkbook isn't. Yet, shoes need to be bought, warm and cozy clothes secured and I can't find any dress clothes in all the moving madness.

The work is never caught up. I am a pseudo-independent contractor working from home. That is code for never really stopping work. I now have a blackberry and know what it is to be truly plugged in-it means never to be truly unplugged.

The writing is never caught up. I set a goal to blog at least three times a week. In the grip of recovery I wrote more than that. Now, when I almost completely own all my time, I write way less than that.

Time with my husband is never caught up. Ever.

I live my life never caught up.