Seriously, how do people manage to do it?

Once more unto the breach. It’s quite incredible that I have been looking for a contract for 5 months or so, and the moment one arrives, I hardly have time to get down to it. Take this morning, for example. Up at 7, went to make coffee, empty the dishwasher, feed the cats, ensure the boy was awake. Then I took Mrs. Ottawacker to her final day of the leadership course for around 8:10, then drove back. Managed to log on my aged laptop, then took Ottawacker Jr. to school and went to do the day’s shopping at Farm Boy. Drove home. Loaded the dishwasher, washed the pans and trays from last night’s stir-fry-and-baked potato jamboree, cleaned the stove, put away the groceries, and then made myself a coffee. Spilled the old coffee grounds over the floor, so spent five minutes hunting for the brush and pan, then brushed them up. Noticed there was all sorts of crud under the counter (the things you see from a kneeling position), so cleaned the underside of the counter, waited for the coffee to percolate through, poured the coffee, and went upstairs to my office. Here, I noted the aged computer, which never switches off when you force a shut down, had managed to turn itself off after an hour or so’s inactivity. Contemplated picking up the aged laptop, hitherto known as the craptop, and throwing it against the wall. Charlie, however, was eating her food in the office, so it would have upset her. Switched the craptop on again, waited the inevitable 10 minutes for it to go through the whatever-it-needs-to-do-stages before flickering into life, held my breath, and then praised whatever divinity was smiling benevolently at me today as it opened first time at the translation I had begun yesterday without requiring any cajoling, cursing or caterwauling. It was 10:30am. I had been up for 3.5 hours, actively doing stuff the entire time, and had achieved nothing.
 
Thankfully, I was quite productive. A couple of hours’ work saw me break the back of the first of the translations. Then my neighbour Colin messaged to say he would be free this afternoon to come and have a look at my new laptop, not the craptop – the one I just got back from Best Buy with all the settings wiped. I looked around the office, realised that if anyone came into it I would be immediately a pariah in the neighbourhood – and so had a manic period in the office, cleaned the bathroom (just in case), picked Ottawacker Jr.’s clothes up off the floor, picked Mrs. Ottawacker’s clothes up off the floor, swept up bits of errant cat litter, watered the plants, and then had some lunch.
 
At 3, Colin arrived. By 3.10pm he had fixed the problem of the additional monitor (my driver updates had indeed been rolled back, all the way to a 2006 version). By 3.40, he was close to fixing the connectivity issue with the printer, and by 4.15, carrying a bottle of rhum arrangé, pressed into his hands by an grateful admirer) he was leaving, having also managed to connect a scanner. Ottawacker Jr. was also quite impressed. So, was I – he had made his own pre-practice snack – and so I made a herbal tea, then drove him to his 5.30pm practice, via Lucas and Elan – while listening to one 11- and two 12-year-old boys talking absolute bollocks for 15 minutes. Then I drove home, embraced Mrs. Ottawacker who had just returned, made a second stir-fry because why not, and then took a phone call from my Evertonian uncle in Vancouver. I was in no mood to listen to any comments about offside goals, so we moved onto safer ground, i.e. Donald Trump. I was delighted to hear that my aunt and uncle were even more opinionated about the Orange Turd than I. Mrs. Ottawacker took pity on me and went to pick up the boys, I came back to my office and, in a state of euphoria, logged on to my new computer. How, how, how is anyone expected to work?