My aunt called me today and asked what we're doing for Easter.
Um. Going to church? Eating chocolate bunnies? What else is there?
Oh! Dinner! I forgot. Maybe I should go buy a ham. Or a ham sandwich. Or Valium.
She suggested that we go out for brunch. I love the idea of brunch. Brunch always sounds like there will be sunshine and mimosas. And maybe hats. It sounds crisp and fresh and like there should be whipped cream on most of the things that aren't prime rib. It's a festive word. And usually comes with a festive price tag, so I don't bother with it myself.
Except this year. Because, dang it, I'm not cooking Easter dinner and then cleaning the whole thing up after I'm done. And because I can't get anyone else to eat asparagus, so I'd have to make two vegetables. Boo to that.
It never, ever occurred to me to go out to eat on Easter. I called for reservations just this evening. Which is why we'll be enjoying the buffet at 5:30 instead of 11:30. But what I'll really be enjoying is the clean kitchen. And the not-washing dishes. And the view. Dig it.
Why didn't I think of this?
I've gotten myself into the mindset that I can, and must, do everything. We must have home-cooked meals together every night. The laundry must be done and bathroom cleaned twice a week. The kitchen must be cleaned daily. The floors must be vacuumed constantly. Alright, that one's true, or the carpets would be made out of dog hair. It's this perfect woman thing that we inadvertently buy into. I am well-acquainted with the concept of good enough. I fairly shower my clients in it all day long. I rail against the folly of the "Should" thinking error, and can pick it out of any (anyone else's) rant in record time. It is my actual business to help other people lighten up and be less hard on themselves. But I routinely forget to do it myself.
Sigh. Anyone know of a good therapist?