Thursday, December 17, 2009

Compared to last year, during my three-year pregnancy, time this year is moving along frighteningly apace. The image that keeps popping into my head is these kayaking videos my ex-boyfriend used to watch of an itty-bitty boat on what looked like a miles-wide river of brown churning flood water and he'd get all excited and pound his one fisted hand into his other open palm and be like YEAH! and I'd just get queasy and dashed on the rocks. I kinda feel like, since Thea's birth, I am a tiny action figure in those raging waters and of course, the water would cliche-ingly represent time rushing along and yes, this is what I imagine when I think about how time is rushing me along. IT'S FUCKING HAULING ASS.


We're in the middle of painting the entire interior of our house and the house is upside-down right now. Dislocated plants spilling dirt, baby toys and jumping machines, dining room chairs stacked in the living room, the couch is across the archway in-between to contain the dog's tail from swiping wet paint, a drop cloth there and over here two strollers bucking each other against the closet door. It's not very convenient for day-to-day living. I do a lot of day-to-day living, you can imagine.


The other day I was completely buffeted between how monumentous was the task in my kitchen, and the one in the living room, and the hall and every way I turned. I got sorta airborne between the areas where I live because all of it, everywhere, was sooo much and there wasn't anywhere to start and I was QUITE SERIOUSLY frozen with anxiety when Clark came home and did some 1-2 KungFu and put the whole house reasonable back together in just over an hour.

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT MAGIC? What does he have that he is able to do that? Why am I always frantically inventing systems of life management: to-do lists and dry-erase, paper notes, synced calendars and MobileMe, alarms, alerts, strings on my finger? My neural pathways are long and circuitous while his are short and meaningfully direct. I may be more nuanced, but I'm sure as hell ineffective.

So anyway! We're painting on a tight schedule because mid-January his parents are leaving for two weeks, and we're going to occupy their house while our wood floors finally get redone. We have to have the painting done before that. HAHAHA. I am feeling remorseful of my color choices with every stroke of the brush, cringecringe, but WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? Clark went with me to the paint store and wouldn't say a goddamned opinionated word and was like WHATEVER THE LADY WANTS, THE LADY GETS but I was like, shit. Okay, HI! WALL OF PAINT CHIPS...maybe, that one?????

I have to admit, another thing I am not very good and and also very much wish I was, is decorating, or imagining the outcome I want when I do... also: making a decision, ordering with precision in a restaurant, not hoarding sentimental scraps, doing my hair, putting on makeup, being at all predictable, blogging, sleeping, eating, breathing, and... well, lets see, I am good making lists, making a cute baby and then pushing her on a swing.





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