Multi-tasking

(I wonder how Bentley the Lab sees through that broken windshield while he's driving?)

It's not a bad metaphor for the way I feel when I'm back in Houston--like my ability to see where I'm going is fragmented by a multitude of little tasks that take me in multiple directions.

Women are supposed to be good at it, right? Maybe it came with the territory of raising children. Because there is certainly no way to put in sustained effort on one thing in the middle of a houseful of kids. A mother has to be able to stop one thing, start two or three other things, then go back and complete the first thing, or maybe never complete any of it, and not go stark, staring mad in the process.

I was never very good at that, I admit. And I'm certainly not getting any better. Which is unfortunate, since the nature of my job is multiple projects, none of which ever really ends; and the nature of our life is trundling back and forth between two places, one located conveniently near medical facilities, one located in a place of clean air and birdsong and lovely light--making both equally necessary, even though each one comes with its own set of urgent tasks.

So coming back to Houston for me is like the butterfly crawling back into its cocoon, where the cocoon has many compartments. Yesterday we filed for four hours. Yes, really. We have temporary file boxes stacked in the middle of the floor, and we are making progress, slowly. Before that, I spent a delightful half hour trying to get inside the head of a character in my novel--something I should have tried two years ago. Then I pulled out of her head, I hope, before I sent email to our building's manager on efforts elsewhere to make condos non-smoking. Also, I did a couple of hours work on my company's business--three or four different items there. Also, had physical therapy, and fixed a couple of meals. A normal day all in all. No stretch necessary.