Even though I worked for much of the weekend, and didn't get quite enough sleep, I feel as if I'm starting this week on more solid footing . . . less schedule panic, anyway. My class plans are under control (for the moment). I worked on poem and essay drafts, and T and I even managed to clean out the shed and start reorganizing it. During renovations it had devolved into a junk heap, but now all of my long garden tools are hanging up, my work pails are accessible, the bikes are stored reasonably, and all we need to do is figure out shelving for Tom's plank storage.

This morning I'll be back to editing . . . yes, I know, I was excited on Friday about finishing, but the files are now trickling back to me for cleanup, so I am in the saddle again. However, this stage should go far more quickly, and it won't require full days at my desk, which means, I hope, that I can also keep chipping away at everything else I need to do. Tomorrow I'll head north for a Monson class on Wednesday, so that will take a chunk out of the week. Otherwise, I am trying to avoid looking too far forward and making myself dizzy.

In sad news my exercise teacher has decided to stop teaching her online core class, so that is another thing I have to do: learn how to teach myself. I've made a list of all of our regular exercises, and I am hoping I can create a routine on my own. I'm pretty good at self-motivation, and though I dislike exercise regimens, I noticeably lost weight and gained muscle during the three years I'd committed to this one, so I do not want to backslide. I hope I can manage to keep myself going.

Sometimes I feel like the bulk of my life revolves around convincing myself to do stuff, but maybe that is just the definition of being a grown-up.