Overmatched

Some days I get up early enough, make breakfast, make the bed, get to work with time to spare, take care of all the tasks in front of me. Laundry is caught up. The kitchen is pretty clean. The house is mostly tidy.

And then as the day concludes, here, alone, I see all that’s not done. All that I’m reponsible for. I feel overmatched. How do I do this? How am I supposed to do this? That feeling of overwhelm and smallness–it clobbers me.

I went out to clear the stream of debris. I think I might have plucked a dead squirrel or rat or some misfortunate, drowned rodent out along with all the water plants that flow downstream to the grate that separates my side from the neighbors. I began to remove weeds and dead plants from the back garden, barely scratching the surface. Why is it so much harder this year? Why does it seem like a mountain?

I know I can do hard things, but I don’t wanna. (you can imagine that in as whiny a voice as you can tolerate) Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll put on my big girl pants and tackle one thing at a time.

Too easy.