The "Project"

I have had, let me say, not the most stellar of weeks.

Work presented a constellation of glorious delights, from what appeared to be a simple set of documents to work with turning into a festival of requirement that is yet to be untangled. And I've *not* been busy, because the untangling involves other people who're more occupied with other things.

Free time, ironically, is short. We're as yet untangled from some volunteer positions, meaning nights and most Saturdays are not our own.

I'm supposed to be teaching a class. And putting up tile in a bathroom. And doing a constellation of other little needful things that need to happen before winter sets in in earnest.

And my days are swiss cheesed. No long blocks of time to dedicate to any particular thing, and some of these things take some time for dedication. I thought I had some time last weekend to get a chore done that I was actually looking forward to, but was called into the house five minutes after I'd started it to work on something else that needed to be done.

Then I asked my wife what she would like for Christmas. And got the reply that since the only thing she got from the desire for a recliner on Mother's Day was an invitation to go shopping for one, she held no high hopes for wishes.

(An aside: Would any sane man go shopping for a recliner without taking his wife? What if I get the wrong recliner?)

So I've been peeved most of the day. And kind of spilled my guts to our youngest, when I had to drive to Blackfoot -- leaving my chores undone -- to pick him up from a camping trip and then take him to Iona to help pick apples for yet another coming Saturday's applesaucing. Emotionally, I'm spent.

So I wanted to go to bed. But I grabbed some microwave popcorn first, then headed toward the stairs.

"Before you go upstairs, let me know," my wife said. "But not right now, I'm in the middle of something."

Okay. So I pop my popcorn. Then poke my head in her craft room, where she's grading papers. "I still have a few more to do, and I want to finish them before I start on another project."

Another project. And I can't go to be before it's done.

I don't need another project. I'm tired.

So I go to pout in the study. I do some grading of my own, because it needs to be done and may as well do it. But the peevishness is building. Scouting for Food tomorrow morning. Four hours in the cold. And volunteers are few.

Then the "project" emerges:

It's a tshirt for me. The weenie dog skeleton glows in the dark.

So the peevishness fades a bit.