I’m sure, at some point in my life, sleeping in was defined by a time later than 8am. Since Munchkin was born, though, sleeping in has pretty much lost all meaning. 7:30 is lazing around. So many things to do with the day and sleeping just steals time from the to do list. I’m sitting in the living room, looking around the house and sighing to myself because, I know, the end of July will be here before I know it and I could get most of the packing knocked out in a few days if I’d just get to it. But, then I look longingly at a short stack of books just begging to be read, a cake that needs to be frosted or the never-ending cycle of housework that seems rather pointless when things are in that transition state leading up to a move but still should be attempted.
I’m a little jealous of the cats and the husband who love to sleep and find it in abundance on Saturday mornings.
Maybe I’ll take my list to Lowe’s or Home Depot and pick up moving boxes. Wal-mart and get a new moving notebook (thanks Mom for that brilliantly effective model!) Getting out should motivate me to get to work.
At what point in human history did the responsibility of the To Do list fall to Momma? Can anybody tell me that?