Buzz, Buzz, Says the Bee

Every queen needs a throne.

I am always busy, but the last week or so, busy has turned into chaotic. I think my bout of illness on Wednesday was, at least in part, my body shutting down for a few hours' rest. It happens, right? I mean, you can only work from 8 a.m. to 1 a.m. at lightning pace for so many days in a row before you body goes on strike. Just to put another spin on it, for all of the week before that, every morsel of food I managed to eat was eaten either at my desk or in my car as I raced from one work commitment to the next. I've been reading manuscripts at stoplights. Talking on two different phone lines while simultaneously writing letters. My to-do list currently fills four sheets of regular sized paper, and I need to complete as much of it as possible before Wednesday morning.

Dudes, I've been busy.

When I get like this, I force myself to get into the tub every so often. OK, let me clarify. I bathe, of course I bathe, whether I'm busy or not. But instead of a rushed shower, I force myself into the tub. A bath instead of a shower means that I get to lie there, in that gorgeous little nook, in a tub big enough to swim laps, and just aaaaaah.

You can rush through a shower. But a bath, now that's a venue for relaxation. And unlike other forms of relaxation -- tv, radio, lying in bed like a beached whale while whimpering at the unfairness of it all -- you can't just pop out of the tub and start racing madly again. You get in the tub, you're committed to it. It can't end on a guilty whim. There are towels involved. It can't be rushed.

Plus, you can knit in the tub. Am I the only one who does this?

Later tonight, I'll show you a sockgress report. Thanks to bathtime and other stolen moments, I've managed to grow sock one from a four-row baby all the way through those difficult adolescent years a/k/a the heel.