Projects

I’m working from home.  My partner does the vast majority of the shopping. Since we’ve been in “stay-at-home” mode, I’ve been shopping once.  I go out for walks some times, but we’ve had a lot of rain, and sometimes there just isn’t … the energy or brainspace.

Because going out in the world means a certain amount of brainspace is taken up with worry and anxiety: am I getting too close to anyone? Will they breathe or cough on me? Will I run into someone not wearing a mask and have to take defensive action? Who is obeying the rules and who is flagrantly flaunting them? And sometimes: why does my back hurt?

That means I rarely go out.

Which means that I am constantly bombarded by the things in my house that need to be done.  The things that I am usually too tired to notice and/or care about.

The projects.

The clutter that accumulates when you have lived in a place for twenty years. The magazines that will never be read.  The paper, oh the paper. I am a champion at collecting paper, as if it all matters, all the detritus of my life. Its hard to throw away the things that meant something once.

The other pandemic thing: you can no longer bring your own bags to stores. Which means we are now collecting bags. There are only so many I can use to clean the cat box. What do I do with the rest? Paper bags aren’t that much better. It’s nice to have a few around in case you need them, but one does not need an entire forest of them.

I am making a list of projects. I have a goal of one “decluttering” project a week – and that’s a very loose definition. Sometimes decluttering is washing floors. Sometimes it’s throwing out paper. Sometimes it’s just washing dishes.

Some parts of my home are better now. There is still so much to do.

And that is why it is not a “stay-cation” even on the days I don’t have to work. All I see are projects engulfing me. It’s hard to relax when all I can see are all the things that need to be re-organized all around me.

I want a real vacation. To go out and eat food cooked by someone else. To stay in a place that someone else will clean.  To go somewhere where all my stuff isn’t looking at me, accusingly.

Perhaps that is one reason I feel too tense to sit and work on my “work-in-progess.” Or to read for more than twenty minutes at a time. It’s hard to focus when there is so much to be done.

It’s constant. There is no escaping the projects.