My workload was at a pace both interesting and not-too-stressful. I wasn't scheduled to go away anywhere but had time to do the work necessary around here in the fall-going-into-winter phase of the year.
So this weekend is the memorial celebration for my Mom. I'm nearly done with the bling bags we're using to re-gift her jewelry. But I have name tags and cards to make, an apple crisp to bake for Saturday night supper, pictures of Mom to find.
And now my phone is ringing. There are wonderful folks interested in having me work on their books. The piles are starting to tower on my desk.
And the deadlines which were not part of my life two weeks ago are now all occurring on the same day—when I won't be available because we're celebrating Mom.
Did you ever notice how hard it is to go away? Even escaping for a weekend can mean a relentless week of packing, coordinating, planning and deadlines.
Coming home means more of the same.
When our son was a little guy, he used to point out that whenever we were on vacation, someone always put time on fast forward.
I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the clock!
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