How come, some days, it takes every bit of energy I have to get from school pickup to bed time without collapsing into a pitiful, exhausted heap?
How come, some afternoons, it’s all I can do to finish the basic animal chores, put together an uninspiring dinner of leftovers, look wistfully at the quart jars of milk filling the refrigerator, and drag myself upstairs to bed at the earliest respectable hour?
And why are there days like today, when, between the hours of 3 and 8 pm, I somehow managed to do the usual barn chores, move hay into the barn, wash the feed buckets, feed the dog, start a load of laundry, play a board game with Hyla, cook a crepe dinner from scratch, eat a calm and relaxed meal with my family, clean up from dinner, start a new batch of cheese with Michael, and then still have the energy to sit down and write?
How does time stretch and warp this way? Where do the extra hours come from? How can one weekend, or day, or evening pass in an instant while another can infinitely expand to allow for all the chores I need to finish and all the leisure I want.
How does this happen? And what would it cost me to learn how to make this happen every day?
Grongar 