Work, what work?


Did you ever have one of those days where you cry at stop signs?  Okay, so anyone that knows me knows that is a typical day for me, but the past 24 hours seem exceptional weepy.  Honestly, I need to work.  I feel like I have no identity, no challenges, and no successes unless I’m working.  Now I know what many would say, “but you’re a mom, and a great one at that,” or “you should be defined by your heart, not your work,” or “the fact that you’re holding your chin up (most of the time) through all of this is success in and of itself.”  Well … pbltttttttt.

I love to work.  I’m excited by taking something and making it better.  I’m excited by brainstorming and the trial and error process.  I’m excited about being right.  I love to work.

The thing is; I’m looking at a pile of mess in my house as we’re in the process of painting.  If its work I’m looking for, one would think I could simply open my eyes to the disarray before me and simply get to work.  So the question I pose is what the hell is my problem?  It’s as though I no longer see the growing mound before me.  If I was to actually get to work, instead of say sitting here writing about the fact that I should actually get to work, I might just be able to get back into my dining room where everything is piled, and prepare for the massive garage sale that I hope to have in two weeks so I can raise the money for the new sofa I want, and teach my son a lesson n responsibility and finishing a project once you start it, and find my sanity buried in a box, and, and, and…

So, the second question I pose is why is home work not as fulfilling as work work?  It’s like why is ice cream out of your freezer not as fulfilling as that at an ice cream shop?  Mmmmmm, ice cream! Or, why is a $7 bottle of wine at home not as fulfilling as a $14 glass of the same wine at a fancy restaurant?  Mmmmmmm, wine.

But I digress… it's time to get to work.

Today's Champagne Bubble is filled with little worker bees and wishful thinking.

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