I should take a writing hiatus (to accompany the sugar hiatus I keep starting) and with the exception of the speech I have to write before my kid’s bar-mitzvah (which it turns out, is only a few weeks away), focus exclusively on getting my shit together. (my tax and bar-mitzvah shit that is)

For most of the year, May is a few months off, but in April, it is not. Until now I had never given that calendaric fact much thought.

I realized this morning as I was crying and tapping furiously under my nose, trying to calm myself down, that the twister of demands in which I’m twirling - debris flying in my eyes, chunks of laundry, bar-mitzvah cake, as-yet-unbought outfits, leaking fridge, RSVPs, requests for gift ideas, too many shoes and coats in my kitchen - will not be lassoed in time. I’d have to learn how to rope a disorganized cow. While important, that rodeo skill must wait. There is currently no room for any to-learn on my to-do list.

(I once tried an online typing tutorial where letters fell from the top of the screen faster and faster. The result was frustration, cramped hands, and no improvement in speed or accuracy.)

My mom says I need to prioritize. I say yes, though the suggestion is about as helpful as noting it would be nice to have some consistently warm weather. That’s how much control I have over my life. 

I exaggerate a bit (it contributes to compelling writing).

Day to daily, things get done. Most periods don’t feel so dizzying and loaded with potential injuries from projectile tasks. My method of coping: reach blindly into the tornado, haul out a chore, bite into it, grab another before digesting the first.

After the tears and tapping this morning I attacked the cake and the fridge. Here’s the thing – or one of the 1000 things. I tried to tackle the fridge three weeks ago after wiping up too many bodies of water - some swimming poolish, some pondish. Yay – right? No, not yay. My authoritative voice demanding a call back from a supervisor led to a game of telephone tag I quit in the middle. (Passover pressure) Today’s call was prompted by something lakeish.

“Have you checked the water line,” he asked.  “Why yes, I slide that 3000 pounds of stainless steel in and out regularly.”

Between calls to service people, I put out four cake feelers. The appliance repairman sounded confused when I asked what he might do with colourful fondant. I can only imagine he went directly to some of his life-long fantasies.

Since I have no immediate plans to stop spinning, my best approach is that of the ballerina's pirouette. Focus on one point at a time - taking in everything as you turn 360 degrees will cause perpetual nausea and the inability to see anything clearly.

But is learning to pirouette properly one of those time-saving skills I have no time for?

Cover eyes. Reach back into the tornado.


Add new comment

Plain text

  • No HTML tags allowed.
  • Web page addresses and e-mail addresses turn into links automatically.
  • Lines and paragraphs break automatically.
This is to check for spam.
Enter the characters shown in the image.
By submitting this form, you accept the Mollom privacy policy.