I've been a little OCD lately - myopic, fixated on my long lists of To-Do's, feeling oppressively guilty if I don't get them all done (which is pretty much every day).
Figuring that a little indulgence would help me recall my own humanity, I went to the BX and bought a ginormous bag of Peanut Butter M&M's. And I thumbed my nose at sensibility. (Disclaimer: The brisk walk to and from the BX, complete with jogging stroller and several productive phone calls, made me feel less like a slacker, ha.)
A couple hours later, while striding around with my cell phone still pinned between my ear and my shoulder, I paused my diaper-folding and dishes-stacking and decided it was time to eat the M&M's. I tugged at the bag, semi-distracted by my Little One trying to climb inside the just-opened clothes dryer, and the bag exploded, spilling all over the table. I sighed, darted to stop my daughter from burning her wee hands, and forgot about my M&M's.
Fortunately, I kept walking past the table, so I didn't forget them completely. But, it was a busy afternoon, and I never actually sat down to re-corral them back into the torn bag. I kept meaning to grab a fresh ziplock, but... well, you know. Walking 10', undistracted, as a Momma, is nearly impossible. At least, for me.
So, evening came and the sun started to set. I opened the back door to let the cool air inside, and suddenly noticed:
Unconsciously, I had been messing with the M&M's, all afternoon, every time I walked past. I don't remember that. But, there they were... proof of my persistent OCD-ness.
(The pile in the back consists of the ones that don't match. Naturally.)
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