A Strange Mentality

I crack myself up. Really. Here I am, four and a half weeks into my six weeks of C-section recovery and I’m going crazy not being able to do much around the house. You know, hang window treatments. Re-stain the trim. Completely overhaul our landscaping.

Yeah, right. As if any of that stuff would happen under the best of circumstances.

But this is how my mind works and it always has. I get motivated at a time when there is absolutely no way I could take myself up on it. Like two o’clock in the morning. Waiting at the airport. In the middle of church.

Does it ever hit me at 8 o’clock on a Saturday morning? No, but it may at 9 a.m. on my way into the office.

Does it ever strike me on a random day off? No, but it could when I’m a thousand miles away on vacation.

Does it ever occur to me when Rick is out of town and I have the whole place to myself? No, but it’s likely to when we’re expecting company and I wind up having to throw everything in bags into the closet.

I’m not sure whether it’s part of God’s sick sense of humor or my own internal mechanism kicking in to maintain into the whole ‘fear of failure/fear of success’ neurosis I’ve got going. Either way, it’s a very real problem.