I’m in shock! I prepared a “to-do” list yesterday, the better to organize both my thoughts and my writing work schedule. That list now exceeds four pages!
Have I been laying back lately, playing instead of working? Or am I simply anticipating what I want to accomplish before the holidays and family obligations intervene?
In checking over that list—which may become longer before items can be crossed off with a satisfying “so there!”—I discovered that numerous items are not in themselves big jobs. It’s just that there are so many. Thus, the entirety of the list is off-putting.
My garden calls, the bulbs need planting, and the sun is out. But although I yearn to grab my spade and head outside, that dratted “to-do” list glowers. Get to it, it repeats, a litany that threatens to overwhelm my desire to take a break.
A friend just called and I admitted my schizophrenic urgings to be two places at once—outside and inside, planting my bulbs, completing and then shortening the everlasting list.
Oh, joy! What I couldn’t do for myself has been provided by another.
I now have permission to take a break in favor of the bulbs, knowing the inside chores will get done later today or perhaps even tomorrow and throughout the week. The garden needs my attention before I can put it to bed for the season under a warm pile of mulch.
Bye-bye, list! I’ll see you later.
