I feel like a whirling dervish.
It's not just an expression - there actually is a religious sect that spins and whirls in big flouncy skirts. I don't know a whole lot about the whirling dervish movement, but my understanding is those folks spin around in an attempt to reach a higher plane of peace and extacy - or something like that.
Funny, because my spinning and whirling is just creating upheval.
I am extended in a bunch of different directions. Work is challenging me. This cookbook publishing project is a bit overwhelming (though we had a fantastic first photo shoot so the gods must be on my side). My social inclinations have brought on a lot of busi-ness.
I keep saying YES to people when I should really be saying NO.
All of the overextension is taking a toll on my home and my body, and I've decided to take control. I am enjoying my final Weekend of Debachery. I'm eating whatever I damn well please until Monday rolls around, and then it's time to tow the line.
My apartment has shot off the flares more than once, begging to be rescued from the sinking ship known as the S.S. Squalor. I aim to restore my living space to calmer conditions tomorrow.
Until then, it's time for a nap.
All this preparation for perfection has me exhausted.