I'm having one of THOSE days

And by "THOSE" I mean one of those floaty days. But not necessarily good-floaty.
Things started out all right. Woke up naturally early this morning, and started the day off perfectly-- with a candle-lit bubble bath and cup of blueberry tea. Seriously, that is luxury. It's not something I ever get to do, and sure the sun was streaming in, but the candle aroma transported me to some kind of existential creativity hub or something. I hauled a carload of doo-dads with me to the office-- stickers, chipboard, photo corners, glass, pipe cleaners, ephemera of all kinds, metallic leaf, tulle, etc., etc. Don't ask me when I thought I'd have time to mess with that stuff today-- Mondays are always busy. Heck, every day is busy. I helped my mom change the sheets on her bed this morning (this is a long-held family ritual-- she ALWAYS washes her sheets on Mondays, and I do mine on Saturdays), and we talked about the possibility of another boutique, and maybe even growing it into a quarterly affair. I don't know if I could live up to it, but the idea excites me. Creating has led to clarity and better projects recently, but I don't seem to have time for much else. Sometimes I fantasize that I could do this kind of stuff for a living, but I think what makes it so luxurious and soul-cleansing is the way I have to work in stages, stealing a minute here or there create another part of a wondrous whole. Had I all the time in the world to work on even my varied projects (picture it-- floating from playing the piano or the dulcimer or the harmonica, or the uke [which I don't do yet, but I'm thinking that's what I'll ask for this Christmas] and then sitting for a bit to write and then crocheting and sewing and planning parties and building stuff out of old junk or foam core, or hitting the antique store/thrift store/dump to find furniture to repurpose and on and on) would probably zap me of energy and creative urges. But I don't know. I guess it's nice that I'm actually practical and content with the amount of things I CAN do. My reality is likely better than the fantasy.
Still, I am restless. Not because of insulation oppressing me-- not at all. I actually love it. I just feel like there's not ever enough time, and I'm afraid the ideas are all going to fly away before I can capture them on paper (or whatever medium I'm working in). And even though I've got some good basics, I feel like I need a muse or something. Or a little bit more of a life outside my own little frizzy-haired artist head. Um, maybe a boyfriend? Or a trip? Or a couple days off? Whatever it is, I'll find it. Or it will find me.