DON'T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF - RIGHT

We've all seen this book, or heard of it. I even read it once upon a time. I think I need to read it again. Today I've been sweating the small stuff and I need to take a break and get a grip!

After last night's cat herding and wrangling, I didn't want to do much of anything this morning, but I'd left clean dishes in the dishwasher, a basket full of clean clothes to be put away, music for tonight's chorus rehearsal unassembled, and a dozen other "small stuff" items undone. I wallowed in self-pity for awhile, and hoped the housework fairy would stop by and give me a hand, but I should know by now, she doesn't stop at my house. Come to think of it, she never has.

I'd been stressing over a bunch of small chores, so I set my kitchen timer for 5 minutes to see if I could complete each task within the alloted time. I was mostly successful. It took 5 minutes to unload the dishwasher and put away dishes, 4 minutes to put away the clean clothes, 3 minutes to straighten the bed linens, 8 minutes to pull out music and put it in order, and another 4 minutes to re-file the music we'd used on Sunday. I was on a roll! Then it happened. The phone started ringing:

First call - the diagnostic center where I'd recently gone through some testing. Could I come in tomorrow at noon and discuss the next steps? Sure, no problem. I wrote it on my calendar.

Second call - the Salvation Army telling me they received my message to cancel and did not send a truck to my house for a pick-up this morning. Good.

Third call - the bass guitarist from our contemporary music group. He wanted to know if I remembered the songs I sent him via email (last January) and if not, could I look them up again and re-send them? Sure, I have nothing else to do and even though I'm certain I deleted that email I'd sent, I'll find the songs somehow. How does he think I can remember that far back? Neither of us remembers the CD, the vocal artist, or the names of the songs. He's talking to me while yelling at his class of hooligans at the school where he teaches. Small stuff, right? Ok, so I stopped everything else, got online again, searched for that elusive CD and artist - and found it. I aim to please.

Fourth call - the Salvation Army again, wanting to know if I would please re-schedule the pick-up I'd cancelled today. No thanks. I'll call YOU when I'm ready to do that.

Fifth call - the diagnostic center representative again. She asked how much my insurance would pay on my testing and subsequent appointments. Well, how would I know? By the way, why didn't someone check on that within the last 10 days? That's how long it's been since the tests and I've been waiting to hear from them. The rep says she'll need to cancel my appointment until they find out the information. Ok, fine. I scratched that off my calendar.

Sixth call - from Spouse who was leaving from work and said he would meet me at the church for rehearsal since there wasn't enough time to come home first. I asked if he wanted me to bring him some supper. Now that was truly a stupid question. I have some bowtie pasta casserole leftover from the other night, so I'll warm that and take it to him, along with a cold Dr. Pepper.

All of this small stuff adds up to big stuff during my day, but when Spouse asks how my day went, all I have to show for it is a bunch of piddly things in which he's not the least bit interested. I haven't even dealt with the furry tails yet. There's no telling what they have in store for me today. Thank goodness they can't use the phone!