My life right now feels like juggling. Not the kind of juggling when you've practiced enough to know what you're doing and the balls (or clubs or torches) are just falling exactly the way you want them to, you know where they are going to come down and you catch them easily, but the way you start out. Struggling to catch every measly ball befor it goes too far down for you to reach it, requiring more exertion, more uncontrolled movement, it looks silly and you never feel in control.
Regular work, the emergency shifts, my dissertation and the tests I need to run for it, finding a new flat, my flist, the Stupid Crush (it's gained capital letters of woe, because OMG how old am I body, 14?) that's blocking brain cells I desperately need (I need to be carful about mentioning that anyway, I get enough teasing without trimethoprim quoting something I said here.), schools, translation, visiting friends, the website I've promised people at work I'd get working soon, visiting family, J.'s boything moving in, articles for our journal clubs,...
And that's before the new seasons start on tv.
It's not that I'm unhappy, there's just so much happening that I'd quite like to stop time for a few days to work on everything I need and want to get done.