I took a class on happiness once. The teacher said that if you’re too busy to find happiness then you’re too busy. I find myself remembering that all of the time. It makes me feel trapped.

Today, I poured myself a glass of champagne and fixed the broken toilet seat that has caused me to fall in numerous times over the past two weeks. I thought, If you’re too busy to fix your toilet then you’re too busy. The leaves on my deck are piling up. This morning I finally planted flowers that were dying in their temporary pots, having sat on my porch for a week. I finally caught up on emails that were sent to me a week ago and haven’t gotten to the ones sent to me more recently. If you’re too busy to reply to your friends then you are too busy.

My kitchen is full of dirty dishes, and they’re starting to smell. The cover to the heater lays next to it since I can’t figure out how to fix the pilot light. A stack of miscellaneous stuff—a furry jacket, a copy of Ulysses, camping gear, a flashlight—sit in my living room waiting to be returned to the various friends I need to see. But I got a dress for a friend’s wedding. I got my haircut, picked up the dry cleaning, potted the flowers, scrubbed the porch, bought new magazine clippings for the blog (!), got groceries, knitted a scarf for a friend’s birthday, remembered to water the flowers, bought a drainage pan for my large pot that didn’t fit (got to take it back), washed one round of dishes, returned the videos, and plenty of other little things. What does it matter?

I look around and there’s still years more work to do. Clean laundry sits in piles. Dirty laundry sits in piles. A shelf lays on the floor next to books that are in piles. My mail is still in the mailbox (must remember to go get that and pay the bills). The trash and recycling need to go out. Must read Don Quixote by Wednesday. Must have my dress altered by Saturday. Must finish my novel. Must breathe. Must shower. Must brush my teeth daily. I am too busy, and it is suffocating me, but I don’t know how to stop. I wonder how I would ever in a billion years have time for a child. My life is already manic. Secret Seven, Revealed.

My mom called today and she said, “You’re life is going so well right now!” She’s right, and I’m too exhausted to know it. I am too busy to find happiness. I’m just too busy.