My last two weekends

Dragon Mood? -- weary


It's Monday morning and I'm heaving a sigh of relief just to be back at work.

I know, I know . . . that sounds crazy. But the past two weekends have been so devoid of quiet, rest and "down-time," that I am tired, emotionally worn and longing for some time just for me. Moments ago, I submitted a request to my supervisor for time off this next Friday and Monday. I want a long weekend, four days just for me.

The earlier weekend I spent up north, with S and two of her sons, Tim and Matthew, helping Sally and Grandma move into their new home. Now helping two older women move (you may be thinking) is not such a big deal. That is true for Grandma. She has moved enough times over the years, basically likes some order to her household, and she was reasonably prepared. Grandma is 89.

Sally, on the other hand, is a packrat of a different hoard. She had not moved for over 30-plus years. She loves to collect antiques, antique glass, antique crystal, fabric, yarn, Thomas Kinkade "art," (yes, I had to think about putting his name in front of that word), stamps, gee-gaws and many other things that you and I (sensibly) would have trashed long ago.

I personally believe that Sally has some sort of disease that contributes to her need for "things" and her inability to get rid of things when she doesn't need them. She needs them all and becomes quite anxious and indignant if challenged on that premise.

Moving Sally's things into this charming, new house was akin to realizing that you're losing a war. At first, we were able to keep some order, put things where they hopefully needed to be; eventually, however, we were simply overwhelmed by the quantity of stuff and not enough space to store it. Closets, rooms and then any horizontal surface were filled . . . to the brim . . . overflowing . . . claustrophobic. It was hard, it was demoralizing, and finally, it was downright depressing.

We worked, a party of anywhere from five to eight adults, 12 hours, both Saturday and Sunday. We quit, we ate soup, and then we all gathered our tired tails, and headed to our respective homes.

Then there was this weekend, the one we just finished. S and I couldn't wait for the weekend, to rest, to recuperate, to just have some quiet, relaxing time for ourselves.

WwroNNNNNGGG! Nope, instead we ran around shopping for a baby shower gift, played hosts somewhat unexpectedly to Sally and Grandma Saturday night and Sunday, and attended a four hour-long baby shower.

I know that I sound like I'm whining and being a "bad sport," but I really wanted and needed some time to myself. I didn't get it, so now I'm gonna whine.