I’ve been very busy lately; busier than I was last year this time when I was up to my knees in wedding plans.
Six months ago, when the director of our local Habitat for Humanity chapter resigned unexpectedly, it was left to a couple of us board members to gather up the pieces and move forward. With little experience and limited resources, we made an appeal to our community and were overwhelmed by the out-pouring of support we received. People from all areas of the community came forward to help us keep our efforts going.
Like George Washington, I have turned down the crown, declining to become the director. Administration is really my thing; that and recruiting every friend and acquaintance I meet to join us. We have assembled an Advisory Board of individuals so full of enthusiasm and dedication, that it is a pleasure to support them in any way I can.
The time commitment for this undertaking has been enormous. I find myself spending entire days at my beautiful maple desk, entering data, handling correspondence, paying bills and making phone calls. My filing system ranges from strategic piles of related items scattered within easy reach of my desk chair to a tidy file box which I make every attempt to fill at the end of the day, or week as it may be.
My housework has fallen to the wayside and although we are certainly not living in squalor, my home is not the photo from Southern Living that I once hoped it would be. Grocery shopping has been reduced to a “grab-it-as-I-need-it” style from the weekly leisurely stroll up and down the aisles at Kroger. Heck, Kroger is ten miles away, I don’t want to take the time to drive there when I can grab the few things I can remember I need at the corner Foodlion.
It’s not that I’m totally at a loss for time, I am mostly at a loss for planning time, for thinking time. That’s why my blogs have been so sporadic lately. I need to find my groove because I really miss the writing and sorting of thoughts. It’s therapy for me.
In the past I was always very good at multi-tasking, but juggling the plates on sticks has become more of a challenge lately. More often than not, a plate will drop and break. I hate breaking plates so I have begun to juggle fewer at a time. Maybe it’s just a part of “the change”, as my estrogen levels drop, so do my abilities to keep them all spinning. And if that’s the case, since men of our certain age seem to be suffering from “low T” according to TV commercials, does that mean that as we age we morph into some kind of general androgyny? EEEEWWWEE!