Good Karma is So Over-rated

I had an urge to go through my email tonight and clean it up. For some reason I can't stand to have old email sitting there. This is usually a good thing, it's nice to be organized, right? The only time my need to clean gets me in trouble is when I start deleting stuff I really need. But not too worry, I have finally learned how to move stuff into folders, (thanks Dick) so I can keep all of my junk organized.

Ok, off subject...I wish I could type this in what I call "Mom real-time". Since typing the previous paragraph, I have swept and mopped the floor, switched the laundry, although the load that needs to be folded is currently eyeing me from across the room, cleaned up the basement, put the girls to bed, solved Chloe's necklace crisis, listened to Emma tell me how Lili never helps with anything, loaded the dishwasher and gave Tom several dirty looks for his ability to sit and watch all of this happen without feeling the need to help. That all took about 20 minutes.

So back to the email thing, in the clean out, I came across an email from one of my dear friends, Larisa. It is one of those fix your karma things. In theory this is great. The only problem is that I think I got this from her like a week ago, and I haven't had anytime to actually read it until tonight, seems fine right? It probably would be except the the first thing the email says is that it has to leave my inbox within 96 hours of arriving there. Great, I'm screwed right out of the box. Let's hope the rest of the email is SO GOOD that it will counter-act the fact that I am way past the 96 hour mark.

As I read on it tells me the usual stuff, be a good person, live honorably, blah, blah, blah. The thing that gets me is the "spend some time alone each day". I honestly can't think of ANY time during the day I am really alone. Bed doesn't count, because if Tom's not there, there is a really good chance one of the girls is. I can't remember a time in the past 10 years that I have been in the bathroom by myself. Even when I am driving somewhere supposedly alone, the spirit of my little angels is always with me in the form of a petrified french fry, leaking sippy cup, or electronic toy with no off button. Not that I am complaining, I mean , this is what I signed up for when I became a Mom. Laundry and old food. That was in the fine print at the bottom of the contract the hospital so cleverly disguised as a bill.

I continue reading the email, and the last thing I am to achieve in order to reach my spiritual plateau is to "once a year go someplace I have never been". I wonder if I can combine that with the whole alone thing and pick the bathroom.