If the book club is meeting at our house, I will need to redecorate for weeks beforehand. Even after this, the gallery wall will need to be rearranged the day of the meeting, still to no effective end.
If I am arranging a gallery wall, I can’t handle climbing into the attic to place the bucket in the usual spot when the roof starts leaking. Richard will need to come home and do it because my mind can only juggle so much.
The gallery wall isn’t really what occupies my mind the most; it’s the new baby in the ward and a neighbor grieving; illnesses and milestones in people’s lives that I want to help them face; it’s juggling motherhood and being a wife; It’s worry for my grandmother who has had a major stroke. But I obsess about the gallery wall.
I need to do something that doesn’t involve making more holes in the wall, I think.