I saw the Titanic. I know the story. There *might* be icebergs, the captain chugs along anyhow, and they hit one. They all go down. I just pray my story ends differently. I feel like we are speeding along in icebergy waters right now. Honestly, this is just so me.
Stage 1: Bored. Need things to do to keep me busy.
Stage 2: Find activities to commit to. Being bored is fresh on the brain so commit, commit, commit. Sign onto every living breathing project that is passed my way.
Stage 3: Gasp. Overwhelmed. Juggling a LOT of plates and some are very pretty and fragile and I can NOT break them but oh my GOSH – I forgot that I told a few other people I’d help them out with their plates too so add them in! And all of a sudden I am precariously close to losing every last plate in the air because there are more plates than I can count. How did this happen???
Stage 4: Start to pray. “Oh God, let the plates not crash. Oh God, take the plates away. Oh God, help me say no to plates. Oh God, I promise NO MORE PLATES EVER!!!!!!!!!”
Stage 5: Miraculously, the plates one by one disappear. I have no idea but it’s like they all just get plucked away from the juggler and all of a sudden I am just holding 2 plates. No need to even juggle. And I HUG the plates and I LOVE the plates and I swear to the plates that I will NEVER EVER EVER juggle again and we will all move away to a small city in Mexico where no one can find us and NO ONE there will know I juggle plates. We will tell NO ONE.
Stage 6: In the quiet moments of starting to plan our Mexican retreat, I find myself a bit bored. Kids are at school, Brian is at work, and I think about how much fun it might be to juggle. Just a tiny bit…
I am sick. I am seriously sick.