I partially succeeded! (Or I failed at failure?)

My husband and I have a sort of running joke about our shared incompetence. Sometimes, we become abruptly horrified by our inability to carry on as well-adjusted, grown-ass adults with a child. We look around one day and realize that we're watching the third Star Trek: Deep Space Nine rerun in a row instead of cleaning out the garage; and that we're eating our cobbled together leftovers-Taco Bell-hot-sauce-and-melted-cheese quesadillas with tiny cartoon character forks because all our real forks are dirty and the dishwasher is clogged with something unidentifiable.

Anyway, we realize that this isn't the way adults with a child are supposed to behave, and that we would like to have a clean, happy home, and that we really don't want to be featured on an upcoming Hoarders episode. So we decide to grow the hell up. This time, we say, we're doing it right. No more ignoring dirty dishes until they pile up. No more avoiding the garage because we're scared of spiders (him) and clutter (me). From this point forward, we're domestic superheroes.

It never happens. But here's what does happen: We get slightly better each time we attempt it. I think, subconsciously, we know that we have to set ridiculously high goals. Then, when we inevitably fall short, we're failing into moderate success. This time around, the dishes are only mostly piled up, the table is mostly clear, and there are no funny smells anywhere in the house. And it's cleanup day, so it only gets better from here! I know; it's amazing. Yea us!

I'm the same way with most things. I planned to blog every day last month for NaBloPoMo, and I didn't. I guess I have some excuses. We had a ton of Serious Life Stuff issues going on this past month. (The thing with Serious Life Stuff is, it usually involves other people, and I'd much rather blog about rattlesnakes and black widows.) Still, I meant to put something up each time. I didn't. But look what I did do! Twenty-one posts in a month. That's something, right? And it's something I think I can keep up. This month should be a little quieter, but there are still appointments and assignments, family events and Chrismas visits. My anniversary is tomorrow (she said, in a shameless ploy to get "Happy Anniversary" comments), and I don't even know if we're doing anything. So yeah; I'm still busy. But 21 posts a month? Turns out I am totally capable of that. Who knew?

Really, I could have put up something most of those missing days, but I don't want to phone it in. I like making quality posts, and I think you all like reading/viewing quality posts, so I'm going to post as often as I can and not do bullshit "Well, here's a post; I'm busy" entries more than once a month or so. I think that's reasonable.

I could spend more time here. I could stress about spending more time writing, and more time looking for writing gigs, and more time with my son and my husband and our families; more time outside and more time cleaning and more time volunteering. But first, that's not possible. And second, I'm tired of stressing about spending time. I think I'll just focus on the spending quality time.

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me while I found my stride. Have a spider and a sunset.