I've been tormenting myself over the fact that I haven't been able to accomplish everything I've wanted to each day.
I had assumed that once I no longer had to punch a clock, there would be no end to the number of tasks to which I could put "paid." I could write long, insightful blogs that would make my readers laugh themselves into exhaustion. I could dive into those craft projects I've been planning since Christmas break. I could sew throw pillows for the condo and hang pictures there (really, the whole place could use a paint job, too). I had even hoped to hem that pair of white linen slacks I bought 45 days ago.
I have done none of these things.
Each night, before I go to bed, I catalog the things I want to do the following day. When bedtime rolls around again and I have done not a single thing on my list, I have two separate but related thoughts:
"Oh my gosh, is that the time?"
followed immediately by
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?"
All of which has led me to conclude the sad, sad truth: no matter how much time you have, you never have enough time. Also, it takes a long time to read all the junk on the internet.
Related: Role models and Friday night lights (out). Cause I've always been no damned good.
Image, Bobbins and Bombshells.
I had assumed that once I no longer had to punch a clock, there would be no end to the number of tasks to which I could put "paid." I could write long, insightful blogs that would make my readers laugh themselves into exhaustion. I could dive into those craft projects I've been planning since Christmas break. I could sew throw pillows for the condo and hang pictures there (really, the whole place could use a paint job, too). I had even hoped to hem that pair of white linen slacks I bought 45 days ago.
I have done none of these things.
Each night, before I go to bed, I catalog the things I want to do the following day. When bedtime rolls around again and I have done not a single thing on my list, I have two separate but related thoughts:
"Oh my gosh, is that the time?"
followed immediately by
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?"
All of which has led me to conclude the sad, sad truth: no matter how much time you have, you never have enough time. Also, it takes a long time to read all the junk on the internet.
Related: Role models and Friday night lights (out). Cause I've always been no damned good.
Image, Bobbins and Bombshells.
1 comment:
It's all about momentum. I've been idle for five days and I'm not worth killing right now. Clearly, if it doesn't happen by noon, it's not going to.
PTSD - Post Traumatic Semester Disorder. We're in recovery, dammit.
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