The point of my post yesterday was not "poor me, no time" but rather my capacity for self-delusion -- that I would imagine a whole empty day stretching out before me, when really what I had was about three hours.
You'll note, however, that I imagined I could get quite a lot done with those three hours. In truth, by the end I had a reasonably clean kitchen, a couple of loads of laundry, and this shirt cut out & two pockets made but not applied. No weaving, no writing, no shirt for George to wear today. By the end of the afternoon I had gotten more done on the shirt while the children played with their friends, but I'm still halfway through the collar. And really, that's a reasonable amount to have accomplished. The amount I thought I could get done is the real joke.
So today I'm trying to be more reasonable in what I expect of myself. But I sure would like to finish that shirt -- and I need to do the writing project, and my loom is calling to me. If I want it badly enough, surely I can squeeze it in?