(Sigh)

I have no discipline. Seriously. I say this after sneaking another Reese's Batman dark chocolate peanut butter bat from my husband's stash. (And no, they are not as good as they sound, if eating bat shaped chocolate is your thing. It's not my thing, but I have finished all of my own stash of secret chocolate and am now raiding his. Only 2 more months till Halloween!) And also from realizing that my blog has been sorely ignored for these past four weeks. I don't have any excuses, other than I feel my life spiraling out of control for no good reason, except, say, the first sentence. The sad part is that this was not always the case.

I actually used to be a very disciplined person. Anal retentive, some might even say. I tend to be very organized and on top of things in my life, or so I thought. Now I realize I am much more disciplined with my family than I am personally. I have all the laundry done in a timely fashion. Meals are punctual and well balanced. Activities and parties are scheduled and executed. Bedtime is promptly at 8:15, but only after lunches are packed, piano is practiced, showers are finished, and tomorrow's clothing laid out neatly. There is a clearly defined sense of order, and the expectations for everyone, from the kitten to the male head of household, are not a mystery.

But when it comes to me, it is a different story. I start the day precisely, but somewhere around mid morning my resolve fizzles and I am left an amorphous blob, as opposed to the other kinds of blobs, which have recognizable forms. And then I sit in front of the computer and waste time, usually snacking, until the dryer buzzes or the garage door opens and I realize that another hour and a half went by while I searched for free MP3 downloads and played Scrabble on Facebook. And usually there is some hummus involved in that time frame.

If my husband asks too many personal questions, I get defensive immediately. An innocent "What did you do today?" becomes a seedy interrogation, bright light shining in my face, no lawyer, no phone call, no Miranda rights. I am sure in his mind, he is asking an innocent question, trying to show how sensitive he is by being interesting in my day. To me, it is a personal attack, hinting at disapproval of my slothfulness and time wasting, a judgement on how I am always many steps away from self actualization. It is bad enough that I know how I wasted my day, but do I really have to detail it for others?