Darn you, Henry Ruschmann!

I know it is coming, and soon. She's been talking about it since the middle of last week. I know that it is heart-shaped, and she made it herself, and I will love it. But, alas, I also know that it will bring annoying little sparkly bits into my house, little bits that I will find in random places, stuck to the bottoms of socks, catching the light from some obscure location like the inside of the freezer or the tip of a dog's nose, for months, even years to come. Glitter. The Valentine's card that my sweet girl is making for me will be beautiful and glittery - I knew even before she told me about the glitter, because I spotted some sparkling in her hair. I will love it because she made it for me with love, and she's the sweetest little girl ever - but I may encase it in a plastic baggie before it enters my home. To minimize the spread.

Previous glitter-covered artistic creations are displayed in my office at work, in case you wondered - they're tacked to the bulletin board next to my desk, so those glittery creations - a gold leaf by the boy, and several glitter-covered pictures by the girl - haven't brought their lovely sparkly bits into the house. And Henry Ruschmann? He's the man who invented glitter in its current cheap, mass-produced form.

I get by with a little help from my friends...

Big Girl and Two are both super-keen to be helpers whenever I start doing housework. Considering how much I hate to clean house, this is a tremendous delight, because I can't complain quite so much when someone small is helping me carry laundry to the washing machine. Big Girl is getting very good at sorting lights and darks for me, too. And if his sister is doing it, well, that means Two must participate.

So this afternoon they've been helping me with laundry, standing nearby and discussing things while I do dishes (because I'm not quite ready for help with that task), and generally following me around the house. Except for Big Girl's brief lesson with her dad: I came upon him teaching Big Girl to say the first words of the Gettysburg Address. Not sure what inspired it, but she's pretty good! I think this is his way of getting her to work on pronouncing words correctly. ;)

How is it

that I never manage to finish all of the items on my to do list? By the time I finish one, two more new ones have been added to the end?

Has this phenomenon been studied? Can it be treated? Is there a cure?

And why is it that I remember the lyrics to annoying songs but forget to do important tasks, like send a file to someone who has volunteered to help me with a project?

I think I need to clone myself. One of the clones can write my dissertation for me. I promise to feed her and buy her nice-smelling shampoos and lotions, if only she will do it for me. Another clone can clean the house - she'll be pampered and showered with appreciation, too. And when I'm not placating the clones who are busy doing things I don't want to do, I'll be able to do all the things I do now, with less guilt!