60 minutes

I am whittling away at my mile-long to-do list. Early on in this vacated (I guess that's what you call it when others go away!) I realized that it would be sorely tempting to do nothing with the extra bandwidth. So I decided to allocate an hour a day to my to-do list. Just an hour.

The big things aren't getting done. Dancer asked on the phone, "Are you going to paint my room while I'm gone?" Frankly, I hadn't really considered it. (Isn't that the kind of thing one needs kids to help with? Besides, my paint budget was used to buy pointe shoes.) But the little things are getting done. Thus far I have:

• wiped down the fingerprint-covered doorjambs and light plates
• cleaned out and vacuumed the kitchen drawers
• reorganized the pantry, a closet, and some files
• sent in our end-of-year standardized tests
• scraped off leftover grout from the walls of the bathroom
• scrubbed the craft-encrusted windowsills in the girls' room
• filed our college financial aid appeal (they somehow overlooked the fact that my unemployed husband no longer receives the salary he did last year)
• returned the library books before they were due
• bought Big Guy's birthday present
• washed the baseboards in two rooms
• cleaned the girls' room to my standards
• pestered my husband to continue dusting off and gently purging his books (2.5 shelves done, 5.5 to go... in the living room) 
• pestered my husband to remove the to-be-removed books from the house (he did)
• taken apart the caned seat bottom of a chair, with the intention of some day putting it back together again
• scraped the peeling bathroom ceiling

This sounds productive. But really, it's an hour a day. It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if there were people here to un-do everything I get done. Even if it's work, it feels like vacation to have -- for a week -- things almost in order.