I pride myself on doing more than I need to do. I think it runs in my genes like blue eyes, a pig nose, or the ability to fold your tongue in half. I don't know the exact name for it but I remember seeing both of my parents spend endless hours doing, making, going, fixing, working, calling, cleaning, moving, and altogether overdoing it.
So here is my beef....fucking articles or fliers or notes or reminders about things there is no way on earth I have time for. Replace your home air filters every three months, check your attic yearly, pull out your fridge monthly and vacuum the coils, and my personal favorite test your smoke detectors twice a year. Really? How the fuck do you expect me to do everything? I can barely remember to bath my children twice a week and check the expiration date on the milk. Do you really think I need one more thing to keep me awake at night? Hmmmm...I wonder how long it's been since I ran vinegar through the dishwasher? Maybe tomorrow I can get right on that monthly tire pressure check? I live in guilt on a daily basis without hearing some news program reminding me that I need to get my air ducts cleared out every couple years. Dirty air ducts? How can I possibly make dinner, go to work, get to the gym, grab some groceries, brush my dog, clean the floors, call the exterminator, call my parents to say I love you, send Grandma a new picture of the kids, and have hot nasty sex with my husband and feel bad about our dirty ducts?
My list is long enough without another random thing to do. Or to feel bad about. Or to do anyway and not have time for the large alcoholic beverage I so desperately need.
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