It seems as though I’m always playing catch-up with life lately. It just keeps getting away from me! I’ll spend hours cleaning my apartment on a Saturday; then I’ll hardly be home all week and have to repeat the process. Whereas, if I were home a few evenings during the week, the task wouldn't be so daunting by the weekend.
Unfortunately, when life gets crazy, this blog is usually the first thing that suffers. Other things have to be done NOW and this gets pushed off till I have time “later.” I generally remember that I neglected to post in that moment just before I actually fall asleep late at night. Then I get that awful feeling deep in my stomach that comes with the realization of epic failure.
You know the feeling to which I refer. It’s the same reaction I had a couple years ago when I threw ketchup at one of my friends. (If you’re reading this, I’m still sorry.) For the record, I didn’t entirely realize that the napkin was dirty when I chucked it, but that nauseous feeling hit as immediately as the ketchup splattered.
What I am trying to convey—rather scatteredly—is the sense of guilt when I am forced to catch-up with life in general and this blog in particular. However, I determined to write everyday this summer so, I shall continue to strive towards that end. If there isn’t a new post that day, it’s probably because I’m busy metaphorically trying to remove ketchup stains.
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