I can tell my workload is getting to me.
I keep having these dreams where I am supposed to do something, but I KNOW it's a mistake to have chosen me for the job. To an over-the-top degree.
The most obvious was my recurring dream this weekend where I was on the 2012 US Women's Olympic Swim team as their star backstroker. I kept freaking out and trying to tell anyone who listened that some mistake had been made. I was no Olympic athlete at all (well, might be less embarassing to myself at pistol...). Least of all anything that required speed.
I kept painting people a picture of everyone being done, the medal ceremony being finished, and me holding up the next race as I'm trying to at least get to the side to get out. Not even a full lap. But no one listens.
And it's not just my office--as that should be remedied some when they let me hire another person.
Sasha and the exponentially increasing responsibility he becomes with the greater mobility and curiosity he shows each day.
The problem teething (bicuspids? Canines? Dunno..) poses when feeding a toddler.
The continuing effort to help Kerrygirl adjust to Sasha--without bloodletting.
The effort to keep Sasha from severely injuring his best buddy, the Hound.
The continued need to keep the house up.
The fact some of our renovations and improvements are already falling apart.
We're in the middle of others.
And there's the long list of items that still need to be done and gain urgency with each passing day.
And then there's the added list of "assorted other". I don't know how else to categorize it.
I'm becoming ever more grateful for small miracles. They need to show more often.