November 4

     There was a time when there weren't ever enough hours in the day. When I could make a list of a thousand things that I was going to do tomorrow, or the day after that. Or how I would actually wake at the crack of dawn to go running, and do a million things before most people even thought of crawling out of bed. Not now. Sometimes it's all I can do to get up. To get out. And no, there is no exciting list for tomorrow, just errands. A never-ending list of errands that can wear me out so badly I have to crawl on the couch by the middle of the day just to recover.
     And then the phone rings and it's more things to do. He adds more errands for me to run, more mindless tasks to keep me from remembering that I ever did anything else but this. And then, of course, I will have forgotten something, missed something, overlooked something, or just plain not cared enough to think about something -- and I'll get the evening lecture on how to do these mindless tasks more efficiently, so that really I could do even more of them during the day. I'm not concentrating enough. I need Adderall. I go on Adderall. I still forget things. I eventually realize, I don't care. I don't want to make a list to go to the grocery store. It might be more efficient, but I'm not a grocery list person. I've never made one. I'd rather go, isle by isle, throw things in the cart, and leave. But to Him, that makes me the anti-wife. To me, at this point I'm just invisible. So I make a list. But then, of course, I forget to take it...