Sanity Used to be a Friend of Mine

I'm going to let you in on a little secret: last week I thought I might lose my mind.

As one of those people who likes to have most of their ducks in a row there are certain things I can live with short term: the house being a bit of a disaster, the car needing a wash and laundry lingering ~~for three days~~ in the dryer...provided that my work is going smoothly and the tax papers are in order as the time draws near. Two things to manage. Shouldn't be that difficult. Or something. mumble mumble

Early last week I got a call from the accountant's office reminding me the appointment was a week earlier than I thought. After dropping one or two cuss bombs and apologizing profusely while the woman laughed wildly on the other end, I proceeded to hang up the telephone and commence wiping my armpits. In the closet were several bags of papers that needed some of my attention. As in ALL of it. Ten months of shoving papers in shopping bags and stuffing them into the closet where you don't have to think about them results in, well, a lot of papers. Right around that time I began having to deal with a *ahem* difficult work relationship (which I will refrain from speaking about here for obvious reasons), but suffice it to say this person has left me feeling as though they would like to dig a hole and toss me into it. Being the daughter my parents raised me to be, I took it upon myself to turn myself inside out in order to win the person over. Because, you know, after having put that useless tactic to rest over a decade ago, it might be worth another shot. Or not.

Friday arrived to find my nerves in a knot and 5 bags of papers breathing down my neck. Despite my best efforts it meant no Good Friday service for me which basically broke my heart and left me feeling like kind of a failure as a Christian. I mean it's one of the BIG days and I can't even mend the fence with a hater and have the papers organized? Two things. TWO THINGS. Taking it to the deck I powered through a ton of papers getting a major burn on my neck, only once having to chase a stack of windblown receipts down the back alley in my pajamas. Success.

Cut to scene and there I was Saturday afternoon: two thirds through the papers, hair in a nest, 78 degree sunshine beaming through the window. I could see the finish line. 'IT'S EASTER WEEKEND!!,' I half screamed-half whined to myself before tossing on a hat and taking it to the beach.

At this time I would like to confirm that the ocean can pull you back from the ledge.

All it takes is a kid throwing wet sand all over you to bring you back to what really matters in life. Wind in your hair, butt in the sand, and whatever's left in the Russell Stover's chocolate stash at CVS to help you gas through that last bag of receipts and sail victoriously through to the appointment.