Twilight books: finished.
Housecleaning in attempt to spruce up for possible dinner guests: done.
HUGE bookshelf moved upstairs to the smurf room: yes and by myself even (don't ask).
Laundry: put away and mostly caught up.
Bathroom: in a reasonable semblance of order.
Light fixtures in kitchen: installed and beautiful.
So with all these things in order, why do I still feel this overwhelming sense of restlessness. Why am I consumed with anxiety over nothing?
I can only deduce that I am like the child that hasn't noticed the absence of a favorite toy, only to be horrified and filled with grief and longing when it's disappearance is discovered. In short, I didn't know I was missing something until now.
And I blame these feelings of frustration on my well meaning but can o' worm opening sister in law. Her and this book.
Oh mother of pearl what have I done?
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