Confused Thoughts

I think that best expresses what is going on here. With me. For a few weeks, perhaps even more than a month or two, I was focused, directed and pleased with the "domestic" results. The house was clean-ish, the laundry done, floors swept, dog walked, dinners cooked, bills paid, piles cleared. I even vacationed.

Now I am home again and the debris of life is weighing heavy on me and I have lost focus. There are bills waiting to be paid, floors waiting to be swept and, lately, no dinner defrosted and ready to be cooked. Yesterday I served myself a very strange, if not delicious, meal of leftover boiled dinner vegetables and broth. Yes, a bowl of rutabaga, potato, carrot and cabbage in broth. G had the remains of Chinese food with steamed rice and some steamed broccoli. Today? I have "nothing" as they say. Plenty of frozen stuff and pantry ingredients. But no ideas.

Yesterday my daughter came by and walked the dog with me. Springlike weather. No scarf wrapped around our necks. No gloves. And later in the day. SNOW. The ground is wet and squishy (a good sign of thawing), daffs are peaking up out of the mud over the septic tank, the streets are clean, snowbanks decreasing in height. Warming. Sun shining. But it's 19 fricking degrees.

I do have Art Rule # 9 for you. Feel joy in self generated sweat. And Art Rule # 10. Fall in love with the working process. I think both of these rules are easy to follow IF you have a dedicated space in which to work.

My dad had a huge workspace in his basement. Filled with every sort of tool and material. If he wanted to go down and work. It was all there. Ready and waiting. He just had to push a few things aside and begin.

In order to work, I have to clear a space. In order to clear a space I have to find a place for the stuff begin moved. And this is where the creative urges end. Because the urge to create is sublimated by the need to "clean", "organize", "pack". I become increasingly frustrated and just quit. I have wanted to paint pages from an old book for two weeks now. I have no where to work. No where to let the pages dry. I have my little squares ready to applique but...... I don't actually have a reason why I'm not sewing. Perhaps I enjoyed sewing in the company of my friend K?

Other things I need to do: (Cross off my list)
Taxes. I have my Turbo Tax program installed and I need to just start doing my taxes.
Annuity. I need to decide. Fill out the papers and send them to settle.
Bills. Pay them and balance the checkbook
Ohio Banks. Settle this.
List the Ohio house for sale. Now I am having to sign contracts (as the new owner) for gas, water and electric services and pay all those bills in addition to my own bills and it is becoming increasingly depressing.
Find someone to cut the grass in Ohio.
Go to Ohio and empty the remainder of junk from the house and drag what we want back here and trailer the car back here. I can't begin to tell you how much I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS. Driving a U Haul truck with a car trailer all the way from Ohio to Maine is a living nightmare for me. I have imagined ALL the things that might go wrong, accidents etc.

Is ART anywhere on this list? Is going back to work anywhere on this list? Is reading a book for fun anywhere on this list?

I am thankful for the 12 days at K's. I relaxed. I had no bills coming in the mail each day. I had no responsibilities. I just enjoyed each day, sewed my squares each evening and had ice cream. Life was good.

And don't tell me to choose ONE item on the list and just accomplish that. Because I DETEST every item on that list and would rather NOT EVER do them at all. Which is why they have NOT been done in all these months. Oh, the bills get paid. I write checks all the time. But I have ignored all the other items for as long as possible. My dad should have made Sam the executor not me. She gets things done. I just make a mess of everything.

So on that self pitiful note: I will get dressed, walk the dog, defrost something, pay the bills, sign the water and sewer contract for the Ohio house, and paint some pages in the old book. On the kitchen counter top. I may even paint the little baked Skulpty legs I made months ago for the little dolls I got on mark down (because they had missing body parts).

Don't cry for me. I just need to whine in public every once in awhile.