Busy as a beaver. Chasing my tail. Running around like a chicken with its head lopped off. Burning the candle at both ends. My life is best described with similes and idioms these days. Seriously, I can't wait to get to London so I can relax a bit with that whole foreign culture thing where they drive on the wrong side of the road.
I recall a book that was published a while back about not sweating the small stuff. Isn't life all about the details? That's Martha Stewart's mantra, right, and she's a successful woman, albeit one with a prison record. Heaven help me if I start speaking with a Connecticut accent and buy a few French bulldogs!
I can't just let things slide. I have to try and stay on top of them. I feel compelled to go above and beyond. It's a sickness, I tell you. Oh how I envy the slacker... the lady who lets things go to hell in a handbasket without a backwards glance. She's the one with her head on straight, the one who can sleep like a baby at night. She has no aspirations to be superteacher, superwife, or supermother and isn't that refreshing. Funny how that works, her getting paid the same as me for the same job, only she's not running around tying herself in knots to make sure the proofreading marks page is on pastel paper in the writing folders (so it stands out from the plain white copy paper) separated by class periods and table groups in color coded tubs. She's the one cutting loose while I'm cutting out reward bucks to encourage the children to make positive choices - teacher speak for do what I say so I can keep my sanity.
Thanks, nature and nurture, for my fabulous work ethic. I wonder if there is some sort of support group or twelve step program for nitwits like me. Hi, my name is Carrie and I'm a Type A, micromanaging control freak.