Big Sigh

After a fun, busy weekend of Big E's first big swim meet, dinner with friends where the MEN did much of the cooking (and it was so very fine), laundry left undone, landscaping left unmulched, newly planted seeds left unwatered (gasp!), beds left unmade and yes, even dishes left undone I was starting to feel that feeling of panic sneak up on me. That Feeling that makes it seem like the air is being sucked out of the room or that I'm being swept down the river rapids and my head keeps going under. Or like when I start to notice that clutter is building up in the closets or drawers or papers are accumulating on my desk or kitchen counter and all I want is to throw it all in the trash just to be rid of it lest I completely lose my last shred of sanity and run screaming down the street. Last time THAT happened? Not pretty.

This Feeling of Stifling Overwhelmation was exacerbated by impending PTA elections. See, some so-called friends had been working on convincing me that it would be a good idea to run for PTA vice president. In a moment of Idealistic Weakness, I agreed. Subsequently, I was mortified into virtual paralyzation. I was horrified at the thought of humiliating public loss, and yet I couldn't summon the gumption to actually ask people to vote for me, so campaigning was definitely out. The worst was at the meeting last night when the audience and I endured an excruciating 41 seconds that seemed more like days in which I was required to get on a stage and SPEAK words! Visions of the empty blathering that ensued when I came face-to-face with one of my literary heroes, David Sedaris, came roaring back. I might need to work on that.

But NOW! The laundry is caught up (enough), the floors are clean (-ish), yard work (mostly) up-to-date and I'm ready to bring all Dick Cheney has taught me about being a VP to the PTA. But I promise to do my best to not shoot anyone in the face.