I was going to call this Food Preservation Insanity. So I could post a picture of my overstocked larder and question the time and toil I’ve invested in my stock pile of pickles and jam.
You’re getting the picture anyway. It’s not recent. Or necessarily over full. That was almost three weeks ago. Currently, I am the anti-Mother Hubbard. My cupboards are bursting at the seams.
I also thought of calling this post “There Will Be No Post Today”. That or “Dual Income Insanity”. Are you noting the theme here? Insanity and blogging and the lack there of of time. I am beyond questioning the two of’s in that sentence.
Its not just food preservation. Although that little “hobby” ate up a large part of my August and is doing a number on September. As you un-happily stand over a steaming pot of plum sauce to be, willing it to hurry the foxtrot up because its still gotta be water bathed and this is a school night dammit, one can not help but question the wisdom of this past time. Wisdom in a time investment, sanity (that word again) kind of way. Sure the plums were free, and Mu Shu pork is definitely yummy, but how much plum sauce am I going to eat in a year? Weigh that against how many prunes I’ve already dehydrated and will also need consuming in the same year. Then weigh that against my overwhelming desire after a grueling day of Corporate Servitude to lay my ass on the couch and watch a little Grimm before I collapse into bed. Please. For the love of all that is holy. You begin to see how the tomato sauce, the jam, the ketchup, the pickles, the bbq sauce, the peaches, the salsa, the dried everything, how those things might get the blame. And we haven’t even started in on the apples.
And it’s really not The Husband going back to work, which should be a joyous occasion. Cause to celebrate. Yay to money and bread winning! Bread winning means a whole lot less bread making. And house cleaning. And dinner doings. And all the other assorted, apparently super important randomness that is accomplished when one of us is home. Lately we both arrive home at precisely the same time, only to immediately start the mini-marathon of evening meals (for dogs, chickens and people too), garden tending, and absolutely necessary housework and projects (because everything else falls by the wayside). We finish that (enter steaming pot of plum sauce) and collapse to start it all over again. So what am I yaying about?
Its not the blog either. My little corner of the interwebs, how I adore you. Even when the gym must be skipped, the collapse postponed and The Husband, dogs, and ripening by the second plums summarily ignored for just one. more. moment. PLEASE. This is not a fast exercise, these letters to you. It takes exactly as long as it takes. And that varies based on inspiration and mental fortitude. Most of the time, thats good. Except when its not. Then its infuriating. So the blog posts continue. Carving out little scraps of time to commune with WordPress, and you and myself. I certainly hope its to everyone’s benefit. As I write this, t-minus nine hours and counting before it actually goes up.
It’s none of those things. And its all of them. Gathered together. Conspiring against me to rob me of… what? My precious TV watching time? More mind-numbing Facebook? (Oh, hey like me on Facebook!) I resent these things when I can’t do them at the end of my day, but what do they accomplish? There’s something to be said for rest and relaxation. Sure. Whatever. I’m going with no one ever changed their lives slumped over the remote control on the couch. If that’s what I’m trying to do, then all this makes perfect sense. The food preservation, the (temporary) dual income, most definitely this blog. Perfect sense to keep grinding away in the time I’ve got.
Fall will be here soon. Then winter. The food will stop rolling out of Ugly Garden. The cupboards will empty. Slowly, but surely. I’ll probably never be caught up on the blog, but TV watching and couch-sitting aren’t going anywhere. Lucky me. I am, however, not in the market for any additional responsibilities in the foreseeable future. No room at the inn. Move along.
What’s eating up your time? What do you tell yourself to get through it? How do you manage it?