Way behind, with child care arrangements for Truck Day (Thursday) fallen through just when I thought they were about to come together. I need someone the kids already know to help them stay out from underfoot when the movers show up. There are many forms of help I could really use this week, but that is the one most desperate need.
I feel like my head is imminently about to explode, most of the day, most days. By the time the kids are in bed, decision fatigue has already set in from the huge number of choices I've made about objects (pack? donate? pitch?), interventions in kid behavior (snuggle? firm time out? sedate with television?), and spacial relations (put fragile boxes into closet to prevent their being used as jungle gym? keep fragile boxes in the open to prevent their being left behind by the movers?). Just when I finally have the bairns off my back for the night, I have enough energy to self-medicate with chocolate one last time before I topple over, and that's it. If I stay up and keep trying to work, I'll just have to undo the work to get it right in the morning, in the company of my small helpers. And check it out: I'm kvetching to the internet when I haven't figured out a way to be (or at least feel) the least bit funny, poetic, charming, or deep about it. Decision fatigue, guys. It's all about the decision fatigue.