This morning, I woke up from a sound sleep with M's Spanish project on my mind. Unfortunately, this is nothing unusual. Monday morning is the one time of week when I experience exceptional clarity of thought concerning my life and my failings. As I woke up the kids, I looked around each room and did my Bette Davis impression: "What . . a . . dump!" Monday morning is when I realize that I have let another weekend slip by without:
--reading to my kids
--reducing the clutter in my house
--making a dent in any of the half-finished needlework projects in my drawer
If I could stay home on Monday morning, I would start cleaning right after the kids leave and assuage some of my guilt from my lost weekend. Unfortunately, the time when I am most enthusiastic about cleaning is also when I have to go to work.
You know what? This post is beginning to make me depressed. I can't take one more ounce of guilt right now, so I am going to stop writing. Tomorrow, I should have better news to report if I can get off of this computer and finish the last few inches of SpongeBob.