multitudes, or lack thereof

Here is a poem that has been occupying me lately.

Walt Whitman: Song of Myself, Section 51
The past and present wilt—I have fill'd them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) 

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.) 

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab. 

Who has done his day's work? who will soonest be through with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me? 

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?

Do I contain multitudes? I like to think so sometimes; and then other times I find myself staring into the abyss and there doesn't seem to be much point to me. There has, in fact, been so much abyss-staring in the last few weeks that I went to the doctor and got my iron checked. It was ok. So what's this all about? Am I having an existential crisis? Or is the abyss a metaphor for the upcoming summer break? The latter is not unlikely. School will be out in two weeks and Dan's mom arrives in just over a week. Eeek! And to be clear, the eeek! is not for Monika - who is a lovely person and way up there in the rankings of low-maintenance mothers-in-law - but for the amount of cleaning I need to get done before she arrives, and for the complicated logistics that it seems this whole summer break will involve. Stop thinking, Susannah, and get to work...