I think because I never really get caught up (not even close, man), I never feel that wonderful feeling of having all my work finished. There are days, not today — but some days — when I cross off everything on my "to do" list. That feels nice, but it’s just not the same as waking up on a Saturday morning and knowing that there’s nothing you have to do. That all your work is completed and it’s playtime.
I think those days might return when the kids get older, certainly when they’ve all moved into their own homes. Sometimes I think how great it would be if I had the house to myself for two weeks. I’d get everything sorted and organized and cleaned up. Of course, then the kids would come home and it would be chaos again in a flash. I’m not sure why I waste any time wishing for order, but I do.
What I’d really like to do is get a group of women together, maybe ten or so, and rent a furnished apartment. We could split the rent and bills ten ways, and every tenth day we’d get 24 hours there to have our own space (shared, but separately shared, you know?) where no one would mess up anything or put empty milk jugs in the fridge. I love my children, and at the same time, I’m with them enough to crave my own space. It’s been ten years since I had that, and when I had it I didn’t know how precious it was. I think to myself how much more I’d value my very own apartment these days, and I suddenly understand why older people preach in vain to younger ones about how they ought to live their lives.
Course, I’d probably get really bored after a few hours alone. HA! NO, no I wouldn’t, not really.