Sitting Around, Not Doing

If the cupboards in my kitchen could see my invisible thoughts, they would slap their doors in raucous laughter. If cupboards could laugh, of course. Each morning this week, I purpose that This will be The Day that I sew Those Easter Dresses. If the cupboards can laugh, they probably can talk to the sofa as well. If the sofa is listening to the gossip through the house, it would shift its pillows in disgruntled agitation. "Sew? What about running the vacuum around here? How will she ever do anything if she never gets off my cushions?" Assuming a sofa can fuss, this one must also be bothered by the frequent diaper changes upon the upholstery. The house may be laughing at my neglect of duties and hobby, but A tiny head, soft with downy hair, just fits in the crook of my elbow, and it won't fit there for long. A small body, new to this world of light and sound, sleeps best when resting on my chest. A little mouth spends every waking moment rooting around for something to snack on. Yes, every waking moment. How do I take care of all that when sitting before a sewing machine or marching behind a vacuum? So I'm mostly just sitting around these days, justifying myself out of the chores and fabric. Ok, I don't sit that much, but it feels like I do.