Papering for Inner Peace

I have a confession.

I’ve been a little stressed lately
I know what you’re thinking. “You? Stressed? But you seem so calm and together! You’re so on top of everything and holding it together nicely in the face of your stress.”

What? Why are you laughing? That isn’t what you were thinking, you say? You were actually thinking, “About time you admitted that. You’ve been running around like a chicken with your head cut off for the past two weeks. We wish you’d get over yourself and chill out already.”

Uh huh. I knew how you really were.

But seriously. The ongoing Great Flea War of 2010 is draining me. My house doesn’t feel clean. And I just don’t function in a house that doesn’t feel clean. The air conditioner in the car is getting ridiculous. The stomach bug knocked me on my butt, and the Government exam I had on Wednesday required a cramming session that could only have been rivaled by the time I went to Australia and bought too much to fit in my suitcase.

I believe I have mentioned before that trying to take four classes during a summer session is a suicide mission?

It just feels like there are a million little things that need to be done, and by the time I get to them, I’m so exhausted from having done the big things that all I want to do is watch Frasier reruns.

Tonight, though, I papered kitchen shelves instead.

I do this sometimes, when I’m particularly stressed out and antsy. My last major bout of papering was last September, the day Kelly went into labor with the Munchkin girl. I also scrubbed my door jamb for her. Some day, she will thank me. I’m sure of it.

Either way, I used up the last of my shelving paper tonight, and did the two cabinets over my sink. 

I’m running out of cabinets.

It isn’t that I’m particularly good at shelf papering. In fact, I suck at it. When it comes to home repair projects, shelf papering is one that I lack the finesse to do properly. The paper sticks to everything but the shelf. It sticks to itself. It wads up. Air bubbles get under it. It NEVER lines up properly. To tell you the truth, I don’t like papering at all. There is nothing enjoyable about the task whatsoever.

But still, there’s something about seeing those shelves covered in crisp, white paper. It’s calming. It’s relaxing.

It, quite possibly, means that I am insane. But we already knew that.

I do wonder, though, why something I hate is also something that I do when I’m already stressed out. Papering for inner peace? Doesn’t make any sense at all.

Playing for peace. That I could see. Or painting. Pouring (tequila) for inner peace. There’s one I could get into. Some people might like to party. (I’m not one of them.) In an entirely different sense, you can even poop for inner peace. (But that’s gross and I don’t do that kind of thing. I’m a girl.)

But papering?

I really need to get out more. I’m thinking a three week, all expenses paid, vacation to somewhere tropical. 

Now, where’s that money fairy when you need her?

Hey, maybe all those dreams I keep having about my teeth falling out are really messages showing me how I can best get a vacation. With inflation being what it is, my teeth ought to be worth a hell of a lot more now than they were when I was 7. In fact, while I’m at it, I may find some of my friends and pull out their teeth too. After all, I’d want to stay in a nice hotel. And get a massage. Every day.

That does it.

Screw Papering for Inner Peace.

From now on, I’m going to pursue Pulling for Tropical Paradise.

Or, you know.

Attempt to get five hours of sleep so I can get up in the morning, get the car fixed, get flea medication for the dog, print out Monkey Boy’s homeschooling materials, do two thousand loads of laundry, and start preparing for my next exam.

And buy more shelf paper.

I don’t feel very peaceful yet. I think I’m going to need it.



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