Right now, I should be doing dishes. Christian managed to find the motivation to wash most of our post-Christmas feast mess yesterday, and now only the pots remain. If I get the dishes cleaned and the kitchen floor mopped today, I can pat myself on the back for having had the most productive day I’ve probably had in months (thus far today I’ve practiced my yoga, studied my German, ran several errands, and vacuumed the apartment). And yet, here I am procrastinating again. I guess there’s some part of me that just can’t handle the idea of being too successful.
As for our Christmas, it went pretty well, I thought, but then my standards, as you’ve probably gathered, are pretty low. I volunteered for too many things, to the point that I almost didn’t get anything done, but it all came together in the end. We ended up with not one but two lovely Christmas dinners (one we attended, the other we hosted), way too many leftovers, a mostly clean apartment, some presents, and what is quite possibly the world’s largest bouquet of flowers. The day after, I also was given a hideous bout of heartburn and a raging case of sciatica down my left hip, courtesy of Genghis Khan Jr. All those obnoxious people who tell you not to overdo things when seven months pregnant may have some reasoning behind their logic.
Though that doesn’t mean I intend to listen to them.