Every so often, I bounce into another world. Tumbling through the grey colors and dull mood of this new world, I am reminded of that old Mickey Mouse cartoon “Thru the Looking Glass”. The humbling little tale were Mickey Mouse falls asleep reading Lewis Carroll’s “Alice Through the Looking Glass” and dreams himself into Wonderland, a world where inanimate objects are alive. After eating a nut, he is transformed in size, dances with a top hat and a pair of gloves before his eyes fall upon the Queen from a deck of cards. His flirtatious antics enrage the King of the cards who sends his troops to chase him back through the glass where he awakes from his nap.
In my other world there is no living furniture or dancing deck of cards, but there is an absence of time, as in I’m lacking time to do all that I need and desire to. Between dishes, laundry, baking and cooking, cleaning, and raising a six-year-old and six month old, I’m finding that my book and this blog are seriously suffering. And to even further stick the knives in their backs, next week I will begin the first of several beds of fruit and vegetables in my garden, begin looking into building a chicken coop and purchasing chickens for eggs, and will be bringing home Snowflake, our new goat who will be providing our family with milk, yogurt, cream, butter, and soap. The additions mean I’m adding to my all ready, daily packed list of this to do.
Don’t get me wrong, these newly acquired tasks are very important to me and things I’ve been wanting to do for years. My goal is to be as little dependent on a grocery store as possible by next year, so of course adding to my list is stepping us in that direction. With that said, though, I also want to blog every week and I definitely want to finish my book submit it for publication (or self publish) and write more novels. My only problem, my only hindrance are those pesky seconds that just seem to tick by, mocking me and laughing as they pass. The absence of time for it all in my life is a hair pulling, growling, annoying frustration. Like a bad house guest you want to kick from your door and throw their suitcase at.
But with the same breath, each and every responsibility is what I want. I want to stay home with my kids, do the dishes, do the laundry, clean the house, cook and bake, take care of the horses, chickens, and the goat, and tend to a huge garden. I want it all, and I want my writing. I suppose now what I need to do is figure out a better schedule, because the one I have just isn’t working.