I'm always thinking of the next thing that needs to get done, before I've even tackled the first. Messes to be cleaned. Projects to finish.
I look at the world around me and I don't see how great it is. I focus in on how it could be better.
It is a horrible feeling. It sits in my throat like a hunger.
I wish I could be more like J sometimes.
I'm sure he sees all the same things I do, but it never bothers him. He doesn't care if the kids have toys everywhere. He doesn't think twice when there are dishes in the sink. I've always thought that he wasn't bothered by these things because he knew they'd be taken care of eventually (most likely by me). But, I'm starting to think that it's actually that those things just aren't important to him. If they aren't impeding his life in any significant way, he'll take care of them later. Even if later is so long from now that it eats away at my soul.
Every night, once the kids are in bed, I clean the house. I make sure everything is put away. All the dishes are done. Lunches for the next day are made. The laundry is folded. The floors are swept. I literally can not sit down until I've run through my checklist. At the same exact time, J can grab his iPad and "decompress" while I run around wrapping up our day.
I have never, in the nearly 11 years we have been together, been able to understand this.
I wish I could just forget that there are things to do. I wish I could make an entire meal and leave the mess to be cleaned up after we eat. (This is often why I eat cold food.) I wish I could walk by a pile of papers without wanting to sort through it. I wish that decluttering wasn't my favorite pastime.
My habits are so ingrained in me that I don't know that I'll ever be able to let them go. But I so want to.