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Speed demon no more with chores

Speed demon no more with chores

Last week, I wrote about travel, the gift of a lifetime. This week, we’re time traveling, and I don’t mean science fiction. This involves the cold, hard facts about time flying at warp speed. And I’m mad about it. Just when we finally need life to slow down – so we can keep up – time revs its engine and almost takes off without us.

The nerve of Mother Nature. Most days I think of her as wondrously talented. But now, there are times when she is downright mean. Take birthdays for example.

When I was a kid, weeks crawled slowly to my October birthday cake. In my middle years, my birthday clocked in on schedule. Nice. There was only an occasional cake. Now, October arrives, at Mach speed every three months – and there’s no cake at all.

Plus, it feels like April was just three weeks ago. The daffodils were up, and the weeds were emerging. Two weeks ago, it was May, cooler than usual, wet, and slowing down my garden progress. Last week, June arrived and I was trying to catch up with what didn’t get done in May. Now it’s the middle of July. October will be here in three weeks. Or so it seems.

Another time problem: everything takes much longer than it used to. It takes forever to clean up a mess, plus more time to put everything where it belongs. Yesterday, while Dear Richard did a good-sized shopping, I worked at sorting and filing paperwork spread across the dining room table. The goal for the afternoon was organization and removal. All of it.

The newly purchased toilet paper needed to go upstairs, so I plunked it on the bottom step for its upward trip – later. While moving things in the dining room, I unearthed a Christmas statuette, which needed garage storage.

On the way out to the garage, I set the gold Santa on the kitchen table because I glanced into the laundry room and realized I hadn’t transferred the morning’s wash load to the dryer. Oops. The dryer was full. So, I emptied it, picking through the dry load to determine what needed to be re-fluffed.

And what was that on top of the dryer? Something I washed and planned on donating. It needed to go into the huge black bag in the back of my car. Well, thinking I was super-efficient, I didn’t delay. I took it directly to the car. That’s when I noticed the car was getting crowded. I needed to deliver the bags of yarn in the back seat, the two plants promised to a friend, and the book I was giving to another friend. It shouldn’t take more than 20 to 30 minutes, right?

But wait. While I’m out and about, I might as well mail those envelopes to the grandchildren. So, I stopped to address them, found the stamps, and tried to remember where I put my granddaughter’s summer address. Oh yeah … if I’m going to the post office, this would be a perfect time to return that catalog item that’s too big. It only took 15 minutes to fold the item properly, track down the packing slip, and wrestle with the shipping tape. I spent the next ten minutes looking for my purse, which somehow wound up on the back porch. Last night.

Needless to say, the errands didn’t take 20 or 30 minutes. Plant delivery and yarn conversations ensued. I couldn’t deliver the book because my friend wasn’t home. Dark clouds threatened, and she locks her storm door. The book returned to its spot on the back seat. When I stopped to buy the lettuce that I forgot to put on Richard’s shopping list, I noticed the gas gauge was down and took care of that little chore.

Miraculously, I made it to the post office on time. By the time I got home, almost two hours had passed, and it was time to think about dinner. After kitchen clean-up and watching Jeopardy!, I was done for the day.

As I turned out the kitchen lights, I realized the dryer load needed to be fluffed again. In the morning. The gold Santa was still on the kitchen table, the dining room table was only half-cleared, and the pack of toilet tissue still sat on the bottom step.

Where did the day go? It flew away at interstellar speed – with very little to show for the time and energy spent. I didn’t even manage a nap. Well, not until 10 minutes into the evening’s Netflix movie.

How did we ever work? And run a home? And actually accomplish worthwhile endeavors? I don’t know because today’s days are woefully short. It’s that Mother Nature trickery. She’s stealing my hours and giving them to people who will use them efficiently. Maybe there’s a cake baker in that productive bunch.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com.

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