I glanced around, nervously, at the house. The air felt flat, stuffy and unfamiliar. Little piles of stuff waited around every corner. I tried to straighten up as best I could before we left, but I was coming down with a cold that day, my head swimmy with fever, and mostly I just shoved things into corners and fled.
That mental ticker tape that lay dormant in my head for the past two weeks woke up: I need to go grocery shopping, start the laundry, sort the mail, get to all the backed up jewelry orders, return phone calls.
And I felt it - an edginess, an itch to run around and get things done, a dizzying feeling that I'm way behind on everything and I'll never catch up. I felt disconnected, removed, out-of-sorts. I stood in my kitchen, frozen, wondering where on earth to start.
I idly fingered through the mail - bill, bill, really big bill, reminders for overdue library books, forms to fill out and return, invitations for things that have come and gone.
It all made me want to lie down and take a nap. That's what I'd do if I were at the beach camp. We did a lot of snoozing out there, curled together on the big soft bed, a cool ocean breeze floating through the window.