So the concerts went well, and we’re trying to get back to our routines and normal life. But it is harder than we thought.
I did expect to be exhausted and not good for much for most of the week, but I didn’t expect to feel completely limp and faint for the whole week. Friday was the first day I felt almost back to normal, but only almost. And my husband has felt the same.
So I spent most of last week basically doing nothing. A little knitting, a lot of reading, and not much else. I didn’t even go for runs, and had short walks instead because I felt so low on energy. I did sleep a lot, and set my alarm for 6.30 instead of 5. Turns out that eight hours of sleep is my limit these days.
But today I have decided to go back to normal. So I set my alarm for 5.30 (didn’t want to go overboard), woke up at 5 and did my morning routine thing. Now it is 6.20 and I’m writing this. I’m hoping to get back to writing my novel soon, hopefully after breakfast. So far this morning I have opened the document and stared at it for five minutes. I have no idea what will happen next, and am hoping that my subconscious will work that out while I’m having breakfast.
The downside of the concerts being over is that now I should have way more time and energy. And I should be able to do everything that has been left undone for the past two years.
But of course that’s not how it works, isn’t it? I’m always hoping for vast amounts of time to open up and then they never do. But my list of things to do is really long. I still want to declutter. I stopped a few weeks ago and haven’t gotten back to it. I still want to sew all the things. I still want to finish the weaving projects that have been lingering for years.
When I look at all of that at once it’s really overwhelming. My husband is almost in a panic right now because there is so much to do in the garden, and then he wants to practice all.the.instruments, and there is a lot to work on in the house as well. And I can totally understand him because I feel the same.
Of course there is only one thing to do. Take a deep breath, make a list, and work on it, slowly, one thing after the other, not stopping for the next few months. And at the end the house will be decluttered, our son will have a newly renovated room, we will have our living room back – mold-free – and there will be fresh vegetables from the garden. Only it won’t happen all at once.
But the novel will get written, and the instruments will get played, and our lives will become a little calmer. I hope.