Muddling on frazzled

It happens to the hardcorest blogger.

It happens to those who depend on writing, blogging as their livelihood.

It happens to the best and worst of us and it happened to me.

I stopped writing.

I emailed my friend the other day that my current state of frazzle has me in a state which renders me incapable to write my thoughts down. And I wonder, is this part of the reason my frazzled state has increased, become even more frazzled?

The blog I used to write at, Javaline, was a place I went to decompress. I still go there to read the blogroll, and sometimes, I really want to go back to it and take up with its familiarity.

Summer is almost here. School aged children everywhere in Canada are aware on some level that even though they love school and all its social atmosphere, a new, school-free period is about to start. Is that why they’re so volatile? Or is that just because they’re, um…school aged? The 7yo is more active and bouncy than he was during hockey season, and at every turn he has to nudge or kick, or otherwise bother his 4yo sister just to get a reaction out of her.

Her reactions are always loud, high pitched, and squeaky. It pulls at my nerves. My fuse is just a tad shorter than it was before, and I’m keenly aware that it should be longer, like the days are.

Then evening arrives and at 8:30 pm I long to get into my bed and read my book. Or watch mindless tv. Or go to sleep, be that as it may. Just as long as no one talks to me. I’m just so exhausted…

And then I wake up each morning with a renewed discipline that TODAY is the day I will accomplish items 2-6 which I had not accomplished yesterday because of unforeseen circumstances. But then I look out the window and notice the newly laid sod is all turned up at the edges…damned raccoons! What this means is that items 2-6 will have to wait because I have to find a way to tie down the sod so that this will not happen every night.

While I update my list in my blackberry, hockeyboy announces he’s got a headache, a sore throat and could he have a bowl, he feels like he’s going to throw up.


Screw the list. Welcome frazzle.

It never ever ends, does it.


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