I have been busy for as long as I can remember. That's just my personality. Even if--by most standards--nothing needs to be done, I will be on the go. When I was working, I spent a lot of evenings and weekends doing laundry, cleaning and catching up on my reading list that always grows faster than I can keep up with. Especially if I have a hard copy of something, I have to read it so I can throw it away. And nothing makes me happier than emptying my email inbox.
When Keaton was born he wanted to be held 24/7. So if I was to do anything else it had to be worth his tears. And I'm a softy, so there wasn't much that qualified. I basically reassessed everything I thought "had to" be done. One day I was doing laundry and it occurred to me: folding towels is a collosal waste of time. So now I put them in a jumbled mess and they dry us just as well. I can understand folding clothes because they get wrinkled and you can't find what you're looking for otherwise. But towels? Who cares if they're wrinkled?
I can't believe this never occured to me before. I have been folding towels my whole life. I wonder what other useless things I just accept without question.
The irony: Right now, Keaton is tugging on my leg and begging me to play with him.
