It's a new week

and I got nothin'.

I would like to be able to tell you about my weekend. The weekend in which we packed up the remainder of Matt's extensive library, moved excess furniture to the attic, painted a very dark blue bedroom a very soft pastel pink. I would like to tell you about driving all over Collin County in our search for just the right bed. About my weekend cooking for the upcoming week's dinners. About the gigantic mound of dog hair that I swept up from a dog that by all rights should be bald now. About my "okay it's time to break out the sandals" pedicure. About how I was early to 7:15 AM praise team warm ups on Sunday morning. About all the laundry that I got not only washed but folded and put away.

Those are all the things I would like to tell you about. Fortunately (for you) and unfortunately (for me) I cannot tell you about those things because they didn't happen. Those were on the to-do list. I wish my to-do list and my just-did list would match up. Just once. It's not a lot to ask is it?

Apparently.

Maybe my memory is faulty but it sure seems to me that I was more organized and got more accomplished when my kids were little than I do now when they are all grown. Apparently, along with the kids growing up and leaving, one's stamina and memory goes right along behind them.

Sigh.

Growing old is not for sissies.

P.S. To be absolutely fair to myself I did accomplish a shockingly low number of the above mentioned tasks. I wasn't a complete slouch.