Things Fell Through the Cracks. They’re Having Trouble Getting Out.

Feb 19 2013

We’re back from our short vacation, and I’m back to writing this week. AlmostSoon. I hope.

I’m also back to bill paying.

And schedule wrangling.

And message answering.

And fight refereeing.

And band-aid doling.

And tear drying.

And couch snuggling.

And child chauffeuring.

And pick-them-up-late-ing.

And dinner planning.

And mess sighing.

And oh-no-what-have-I-forgottening.

And I’m-pretty-sure-it’s-all-too-muching.

And I-think-I’ll-just-read-a-novel-because-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-firsting.

I’d say things are falling through the cracks around here, except I’m not sure what to call it when the cracks have joined forces to become a giant, cohesive, bottomless chasm that already swallowed all the things.


Hello, THINGS? I holler from the precipice. You all doin’ OK down there? Need anything from me? … Ummm … Any chance you can rescue yourselves this time?? … Hello? … Helloooo?? Hello, THINGS?

But the things aren’t responding, so it’s time to don my rescue gear and rappel into the chasm to pull them to safety. Again. Like I haven’t warned them a thousand times to quit playing near the chasm. The things, though, you guys; the things never listen.

When I was a kid, I didn’t like to clean my room. Like my friend Sally’s son says, “I’m not one of those cleaning type kids.” Word, man. But my dad taught me two cleaning skills I still use when my things go missing:

  1. Pick up just one thing. Put it all the way away.
  2. Repeat.

OK, fine. Today, that advice is my rescue gear. I’m getting ready to descend into the chasm, friends, and to pick up just one thing at a time. To do something instead of nothing. Because I’ve noticed that a) doing nothing means nothing gets done, and b) the alternative to nothing isn’t doing it all, it’s doing anything.

Wish me luck down there.

(And if I’m not back in a couple of days, send help.)



P.S. I’m trying these days to give myself credit for the things I do manage to do and not just beat myself up for all the things that base-jump into the chasm. And you know what? I’m already successful today. I’ve had my coffee, my children are all the way dressed, and I am wearing pants. BOOyah!

P.P.S. Are any of your things stuck in the chasm with mine? How’re you doing? And what do you need credit for managing to do today?


image credit “Break” by Salvatore Vuono at