I was having another one of my panic attacks, which explains why every other soul that lives in this house was missing. (I can't blame them. I do turn into a bear when I have a million things to do.)
Joey went golfing with his grandfather. Russell is out raking hay and Steve; well I think he's running around outside trying to look busy.
Between graduation parties, theatre productions and room mates, I start to feel like I am spinning in a Tilt-o-Whirl and the operator just went on a bathroom break because he doesn't know I suffer from motion sickness.
Such was the case Monday morning.
I failed to realize it was June 3. For some reason it feels like April 3. I think the weather has everything to do with this concept.
June 3 was a significant date in my world.
First, I have to send out the billings for my column. Usually, I try to do this on the last day of every month. I am not even sure when May 31 occurred.
Second. I graciously offered to let one of our employees, Garrett, stay in our spare bedroom over the summer. He wanted a summer job, and because we are unable to pay him a wage that would allow him to have his own apartment, we chose to let him work here over the summer and stay with us.
Don't get me wrong. I am excited to have him here. It takes me out of the milking schedule.
Garrett told me in the middle of May he would return from Michigan on June 3.
I didn't realize June 3 was so close until Joey told me, "it's June 2 and Garrett will be moving in tomorrow."
I had yet to purchase him a mattress for the bed he will be using and my house was chaos. I still had groceries sitting on the island that I purchased the previous week.
On top of all preparing for a guest, I have a commitment to the next production of New Ulm Community Theatre's production of "The Front Page."
If I could go to rehearsal every day, I would be happy. I am having so much fun as a participant in this production. When I go to practice; it's my outlet. (I mean I get to royally scream at several other characters! Now, that's a stress outlet!)
Monday morning it became perfectly clear I was a bit bugged out, when I started tidying the house by running the vacuum.
I noticed the dirt bag was a bit plump. (I am not talking about Steve here. I am referring to the bag in the vacuum.) Carefully I removed it and set it by the garbage that needed to go outside to the dumpster.
Meanwhile, Steve came in from morning chores. We discussed my rehearsals and then what was happening throughout the rest of the day. We haven't been seeing much of each other lately. Talking over a bowl of Frosted Flakes is about the only time we can tell each other what our day will involve.
After breakfast, it was back to work.
I turned on the vacuum and started sucking up the dust bunnies, consisting of cat hair, and the piles of dirt Bob, the Wonder Dog, leaves near the front door - a chocolate lab that hates bathing (and guns). Go figure.
I moved over to the edge of our kitchen island, and just as I pushed the humidifier out of the way, I realized there seemed to be a sort of milky consistency to the air I was trying to look through.
For heaven's sake, I had forgotten to replace the vacuum cleaner bag!
What ever I had sucked up off the floor was once again floating through the air.
Things were just getting out of control on this particular day.
I couldn't go to rehearsal to take away the stress, that wasn't until later in the day.
I did go sit at my typewriter and pound out a cute story.
That cured my craziness. Then I replaced the vacuum cleaner bag and started all over.
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