aka “Do you want a cork for that whine?”
All my crazy is all my own fault. No matter which direction I turn, there are sirens calling, “Do this! Do that! You can do it! Take on another project! More! More! More!”
I accumulate… crafty projects and writing projects and volunteer stuff and, of course, the never-ending house maintenance and decorating projects.
And then you are moving too fast and get careless and break your arm by taking a flying leap off a spaghetti light and need surgery and then endless sessions of physical therapy.
Normal American daily life stuff that is kind of… banal… but kind of… miraculous, the lifeblood of your very life.
But which also is sisyphean (yes, I had to look up how to spell that) and all my own doing because I really don’t *need* to take on a bunch of it.
… There are those sirens calling, “Do this! Do that! You can do it! Take on another project! More! More! More!”
And now, to keep up with Katiedynamodoodle, I have a vintage estate sale dollhouse of my own to decorate.