On biting off more than I can chew

I have this pendelum-like tendency to take on a bunch of activities, and then resent the activities for taking over my life. There was the time when I took Russian classes four nights a week after work - what was I thinking? Oh, the many good causes I've volunteered for, and then abandoned with a big fat wallop of guilt.

Of course, I have less natural energy than some people I know. I believe everybody has a natural energy level. Some people are go-go-goers. Not me. I get stuff done, don't get me wrong, but I need a healthy dose of vegetative time, when I don't have to interact with any other human beings. That's what knitting and murder mysteries and fleece pants are for. NOT INTERACTING.

I should know that this time of year is always tough, what with the total absence of sunlight. It makes you want to hunker in the bunker, and take three naps a day to boot. Even Nelly doesn't want to go out for a walk in the mornings, she just climbs onto the bed with me and stares blankly at Enrico as he jangles her leash. What, go out? In the rain, where my feet would get wet? Screw that. What was I thinking, with Italian class and private investigator school and the half-marathon and all these damn fundraisers that have somehow appeared on my calendar? You'd think I'd learn my limits by now, or at least confine my overachieving months to the May-to-July season, when the sun scarecely sets and all of life is like one big prednizone trip.