On Sarah Sylvia and Going Dark

There's a Shel Silverstein poem about a girl that would not take the trash out and it ends like this:

And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Sylvia Cynthia Stout
And always take the garbage out!

I'm pretty much feeling like Sarah Sylvia at the moment, well, except that I'd like to take the garbage out. And pay the bills. And fold my laundry. But for some reason which I've not sorted out yet, I'm being chased by a large beast which keeps me from getting these things done.

I go to sleep, and I see the beast there. It stalks me, and screams at me, "I am the beast of Deadlines." Sometimes, another beast appears, too. A darker, slower, sloth-like beast shouting, "I am the beast of bad time-management."

Albeit, some of the time issues are just results of this short season of life. I've got the two jobs so I can keep the credit cards at bay. The Coffee Kiosk has its issues lately which are feeding the beasts.

Anyhow, I'm going to try and pull back for a week or two and assess what I can cut out, what I can leave in. And I think that part of the process will be to go dark for a tad.

I may not even be able to pry myself away from doing a post or two. But, if I do, it'll only be until the laundry gets folded and the bills get paid. Oh, and I guess I better take the garbage out!