It's February. It's cold. Spring is thirty-eight days away. I am trying not to be a slug. I am trying not to cozy up on the couch every second and read. My get-up and go self is yelling at my sit-down and veg self. "Come on you! Paint the living room! Clean out the attic before it is a million and one degrees up there! De-clutter everything!"
Some times my veg-self is very compliant and does what it is told. Other days, it is quite cranky and just tells get-up and go to shut-it!
Ugh-dilemmas.
Most of the time, a happy medium is reached. Things that absolutely need to get done are done, along with an adequate dose of sluggishness.
I still feel guilty. And I am not even catholic.
I was up at 6 a.m., fixed coffee, two breakfasts, packed three lunches, gave a lecture on study habits, sent two kiddos off to middle school, woke up a nine year old from a deep, warm slumber, kissed a husband as he went off to work and let out and fed two dogs. All before 7:30 a.m.
I think I will go read.
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