I find I’m exhausted today, even though nothing particularly challenging or unexpected happened to sap my energy. Rather, I think reality just arrived on the doorstep.
We’ve had a glorious fall, weather-wise, but today a forerunner of winter blew into town. Temperatures dropped dramatically, the sun disappeared, and the wind exerted its role as boss. The gray day reminded me of the one saving grace of having it get dark early: you can’t tell it’s gray outside.
In addition, this is the middle of Week Seven on our remodeling project, the one I’d hoped to finish in four weeks. I’d heard the axiom “Twice as long and twice as expensive” more often than I would like in my life, and I’d hoped to show it didn’t have to be that way. Like a child who refuses to give up believing in Santa, I still felt reality could match my expectations.
However, the actual reality is that I’m three weeks late in getting our bathrooms done and it’s beginning to grate on me. I see progress, but it’s slow. And I’m tired of feeling as if I’m camping out in my own house.
I will say we’re still within budget, and I supposed I should find some consolation in that. But not tonight. Instead, I’m going to grab a good book, curl up with an afghan, and bury my head in someone else’s problems, fictional or otherwise.
As Scarlett O’Hara once said, “Tomorrow is another day.”
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