Deadlines

This is the first time in a long time I've missed my self-imposed deadline. No surprise, perhaps - I'm beat. We arrived home late last night, and I had a migraine when I woke; allergic to the area, or psychological manifestation, I've no idea. We had several messes (cat, daughter, a few of my own) to clean up when we returned in the wee hours, but the big jobs were today. The Big Lug mowed a lawn of monstrous proportions - "high as an elephant's eye" is what he said - and I did my best. I'll tackle the garden tomorrow, though, not today as he did; the cleaning I didn't do before we left came back to bite me in the butt, and the illness plus a tutorial (two hours) early in the afternoon equalled only one room sterilized. Since it was the master bath, and I not only cleaned the floors and fixtures but tore down the hideous blinds (replaced with dotted swiss curtains) and put in a new shelf to keep it all decluttered (I hope), it was time well spent. But I lost track.

Vacations encourage that, don't they? I forgot it was Monday, my blogdate, even my payday. That's not usual for me. And it was nice. Even though the trip back had its own set of deadlines - this many miles per day to get to the pre-booked motel - we still didn't really look at a clock very often. We didn't even turn on the radio. We didn't need to.

Ah well, more stories, hopefully even pictures, next time. For now, my only deadline is the one which will see me cuddled up to my tired, but content-with-his-accomplishments man. And I still won't look too closely at the clock.