I occasionally get paralyzed by my life.
“Occasionally” means several times a day. “Paralyzed” means that I walk from the kitchen sink to the back door to the back hall to the table to the desk and back again, all the while attempting (in vain, I might add) to get my kids to stop fighting, stop fussing, and stop moping and just go out and play. Or else quietly (and cheerfully) do their chores or their school work or something. Anything! Just. Leave. Me. Alone. Allow me the pleasure of an uninterrupted stream of thought for three consecutive minutes. Please! Please! PUL-EEZE!
So I run laps, bark orders, usher the kids out of the room, separate them yet again, and before you know it all my energy has trickled out of me so that even when the children are finally out of my hair, I find myself mindlessly walking in circles or gazing out the window, unable to muster the energy to do any of the tasks on my list.
And then it’s suppertime so we eat eggs.