Whoops! I was supposed to start writing yesterday and completely forgot. It was Sunday. I blame the weekend. And the fact that I had what felt like eleventy-billion kids in my house all damn day.

I forgot to do so much.

Forgot to take meat out of the freezer for dinner (so we ended up going out for pho instead. Oh darn).

Forgot to remind my kids to fold their laundry so I could have the baskets back to fold my own (everything is still in baskets and in the dryer. Whatever).

Forgot to sit a read for a bit.

Forgot to drink water.

Forgot to wash my face.

Pretty much everything I could forget to do, I did forget to do. There was no amount of reminders or sticky notes that was going to save me yesterday. It was just one of those days.

I don’t have them very often anymore (thank you, medication!) so I don’t get super worked up about it when I do. I’m trying to undo what can best be described as a trauma response wherein I feel like I am not allowed to rest or stop or sit down. I always have to be producing something. Cleaning, writing, laundry, cooking…there’s always something I should be doing.

Nah. Sometimes the thing that needs doing is nothing.