What Dreams May Come

Even our misfortunes are part of our belongings. - Antoine de Saint-Exupery.

I am feeling rather scattered and muddle headed. This has persisted for several weeks, maybe even months. I can't concentrate, for the life of me, to set myself to tasks and follow through. The house is a mess, an absolute crazy mess. When I speak of task aversion, I mean on the simplest of levels. I think aversion is the wrong word. I'm not averse to these things.

I can start, but I can't follow through and complete anything. The laundry is partially done. What has been both washed and dried, isn't folded or put away. The dishes in the dishwasher have been washed twice, but something is wrong and they're not coming clean. So half are clean and not put away and the other half need to be hand washed to see if I can figured out what's going on (maybe building polymers in the sink from the workmen are stuck on dishes? Would they really use the kitchen sink when there is a utility sink not but five feet away?)

There is this accumulation of busywork to be done and while I feel I'm constantly doing things, nothing seems to get done. And it feels like there's never time to just sit back and enjoy, read, relax, putter, lay on the grass and stare at the sky. But what's the problem? Why aren't things getting done? I don't mean just house keeping, either.. I mean bill paying, work, everything. I can't get my head around things and I'm increasingly frustrated.

Cassie had a thought, that rather than wait to sit down and read, I start the day reading and relaxing - pushing the chores to later in the day. I went to the park this morning with Secret, tossed the ball and intended to read. Even reading I can't accomplish. I was in the park from about 8 am until after 11. I barely finished the letters to the editor and only got two pages into the interview with Jeremy Taylor. What happened? What happened to the time?

Okay.. back to the damned stupid chores while the rats rummage through the kitchen (I can hear them now.. YES in the middle of the day.) It seems symbolic of something. A symbolism that's no longer relegated to my dream world but all just playing itself out right here, right now, not wasting time waiting for sleep or choosing to show itself at such-and-such a time. There's no difference anymore.