Being a Type A on a Type B island

   I don’t know which is harder, the exhaustion that comes from being a Type A, or the guilt that comes with not accomplishing my Type A goals.
   Case in point: our home.
   Back on March 8, when we moved in, I assumed that everything could and would be accomplished in a month. I considered it an honorable and justified goal, one worthy of daily sacrifices. I can do anything for thirty days, right?
But I live on a Type B island, where there’s a maximum amount one can put out for the trash truck, where people answer my Craigslist ad to pick up free stuff three days after the fact, where the closest Home Depot is a half hour away, where yardage stores market to quilters instead of people who want cool decorator fabrics, and where every project takes approximately three and half times longer than it should. For example, we had to rent a truck ten miles to the north to pick up the guest bed twenty miles to the south. Four hours it took! (Why didn’t we have it delivered? Because I wanted it NOW!)

   So, we’ve lived here just over six weeks, and I’ve gotten the two master bathroom windows covered so we don’t scare the neighborhood kids anymore, and I finally one guest room is 99% done (it took me over a week for god’s sake), while the other one waits for my creative hand. Note to writing friends, both guest rooms will have writing desks.

   This, you might think, is an accomplishment in itself.

   But, here’s our bedroom, still with lamp parts strewn on the floor, a library of windows needing attention. (We have a great view of Orcas Island's Mt. Constitution from here.) And you should see the living room! Actually, you shouldn’t. More huge view windows needing covering, while the dilemma of where to put the furniture persists. It's a visual mess that's driving me crazy. I contemplated throwing out all my chairs and stuff and starting over, but I won’t because I’m your basic Capricorn who likes her familiar old pieces. After all they retain our good friends' auras and fabulous energy.  

   In rereading this, I realize guilt grips me in a full nelson, or rather a finger trap, and I should just relax. Being uptight will get me nowhere. Chop wood; carry water. Things will progress. It’s not a race. (It isn’t???) It will all get done.
    Except I want it done NOW!
   I should reread my book! What is it I love to say? "Thinking the right thoughts takes the work out of doing!"