This too shall
Kolokai has decided--this year, after many years--that the Christmas ornaments are a bonus present for her to destructivize. To her credit, she (mostly) waited until after she opened her gifts to let loose on the tree. Now the tree is top-heavy and circled with chairs. I'd hoped to keep the tree up till my folks visited in a couple weeks. But between this, the speculum duck (exactly what it sounds like), and the anatomically correct (very correct) Santa, perhaps packing the tree up early isn't a bad idea for all involved.
She's sitting in the sun, resting her pointly rascally self. Kehoe's stretching in the kitchen and sniffing for food remnants. The house is the middling disaster that happens when I'm sick. Things are loosely in disarray and the germ content must be a bit alarming. I'm in the higher level of disarray that comes with being sick. Somewhere between pathetically whinging and very nearly fully functional. It's not cute.
Don't even let me get started on the yard. There's a reason I call it my Darwinian experiment. It's somehow survived several years of me, so the drought and subsequent rains are nothing to my hardy little plot of land.
Weighing all this down is not being quite well enough to be as active as usual (by far my healthiest drugs/compulsions are kaj and paddling) combined with fragments of insomnia. Add to that heavy mix a good dose of impossible deadlines, and...well, it's no surprise that home-hygiene is suffering a bit.
But behind the voice in my head screeching my impending failure (could you turn that down, and maybe change the track, please?), there's also a somewhat new awareness that all this will pass. That the good stuff is for enjoying and the hard stuff is for building experiences. And in both cases, they'll be gone sooner than not.