When I get stressed out, I clean and throw things away. I have been under way too much pressure for far too long, and now that Neil is out of school, things should be settling down. Instead, I am working ten hour days with an unbelievable sick feeling in my stomach that may be related to the tremendous work stress, or the guilt caused by forcing Hayden to live with a mother who is constantly on the phone or on the laptop, even when we're supposed to be playing with Play-Doh. I just want to throw up and be done with it, and throw my hands up and be done with this "part time work from home" job which is more accurately a "work a thousand times harder than you did when you were a salaried employee but without the benefits" job.

So today, even though I had to squeeze it in while a CD was burning, or a computer was rebooting, I packed up all the clothes Hayden has outgrown, cleaned out my bathroom cabinets and threw away all my old make up and skin/hair products, vacuumed out my car, replaced the books and movies we keep in the car for Hayden with new ones that may hold his interest for a while, did four loads of laundry, and wrote this post (the CD will be done burning in approximately 2 minutes and 13 seconds). I also disinfected the little center console in my car with Lysol wipes, scrubbed scuff marks off the wall next to picture frames, and cleaned the grate on the bottom of my refrigerator. And it's only 1:30 in the afternoon. My life is a well oiled machine. Work deadlines are met. Pantry stays well stocked. House is always clean. Laundry is always done. Closets are organized. Drawers are neat. I get everything done; I just have no time where I'm not getting everything done.

I can see right through my own psychosis. I know I clean compulsively to find order in my chaotic lifestyle, and I'm sure I throw things away in an attempt to simplify my life, even though the complications have nothing to do with what is in my cabinets.