Mellow Tuesday? Ha!

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sliced of citrus lemons

Does this have anything to do with post? Who cares, it’s a great photo. Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com 

 

Am I less frazzled than yesterday?

Eh.

Still trying to get a bunch of stuff done. And still trying to do it all at once. And this may be where all that yoga can prove helpful.

To slow down. To be in this exact moment when all I need to focus on, all I need to do is this blog post. Only the other part of my brain is doing that banging on the fish tank thing: “Uh, HELLO? What about the software you have downloading on another device right now? Don’t you need to see about it? And how about the laundry, huh? THE LAUNDRY. Forget your pesky words. LAUNDRY.”

That glass tapper sure loves to think about laundry.

If the meditations have taught me anything, it’s that I’m supposed to be able to recognize those thoughts, acknowledge them, and let them go.

But the letting them go is so much harder than it should be, when I could just, you know, get them done. Well, not the laundry, the laundry is a process, but you get the idea.

I will take a moment to breathe, yoga taught me that, too. And ah, that’s better.

Part of the problem of life is this desire to make the stress go away, to tame it, to control it. But we can’t do any of that; stress is a wild beast that always finds a way in.

Always.

The only thing we can change is how respond it it. Huh, maybe I’ve learned something from that yoga after all. Now, about that laundry…

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Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   

Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 

 Her Cousin Much Removed

 The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.

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May My To-Do List Bring Me Back to Earth

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I’m slow to post today. I’ve had one of those mornings where realizing I need to get something done leads me to realizing that I need to get something else done, which then leads to internet research, which likely eventually will lead to internet shopping, because who doesn’t like internet shopping and what was I supposed to be doing in the first place?

Oh yes, right, writing.

I have found that the best way to ground myself on those days — these days — where I’m in the to-do flutter is the good old-fashioned list. There’s something about writing it down, and then something even better about crossing it off.

Who doesn’t love crossing off a completed task? It’s like a penular pat on the back. And we all know those are awesome.

Of course part of my problem is that I am currently in the midst of doing that laundry of life, the stuff that always needs doing no matter how often you do it. Including laundry. Though that just needs to be put away, which, as we all know, takes all of about 15 minutes, but seems like the kind of task you need to strap on the heavy pack for.

Oh how I wish I was one of those people for whom cleaning was a hobby. Or a joy. I should talk to Aunty Ida about a slight tweak. Or maybe I shouldn’t, you may or may not know how those turn out (but generally not so well).

There we go. Now all I have to do is go write “blog post” on my list, so that I can cross it off. Look at me, a bundle of efficiency.

Whoo-hoo.

Check out  my full-length novels,  Her Cousin Much Removed,  The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management and Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only), and the sequel, Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) which is now available!

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Surprise! Appointment

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I was sitting on my couch yesterday when the phone rang. I saw the name of my hair salon on the caller ID, so I answered.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hi,” said the bright voice on the other end, “this is Vivian from the Hair Salon* (*names have been changed to protect the identities, and also I am too lazy to look up how to spell the name of the hair salon). I’m calling to confirm your appointment for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Meaning today. So that’s where that hair appointment got to. I knew I had made one, I just didn’t remember exactly when the appointment was for. Good thing they do reminder calls.

“That’s great,” I told Vivian, “and I’ll be there, because I need it.”

So do I thank my past self for looking out for me, my curls a little worse for the wear, or curse my past self for not putting the date in my phone like I said I was going to do?

It gets so easy now to just rely on external factors to remind us when things are coming up, when things need to be done. I know I never have to note a single dentist appointment, because they will text me, email me and call me. In fact, if I ever disappear, I suspect my dentist’s office will be the one to track me down.

I’m not sure exactly what my past self was thinking when it chose the time, although it’s working out a little more conveniently than I thought it would. Will I become a past-self today, securing an appointment that will never make it into my phone, proving that I’ve learned absolutely nothing from this whole exercise?

Yup.

Check out  my full-length novels,  Her Cousin Much Removed,  The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management and Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only), and the sequel, Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) which is now available!

Sign up for my spamless newsletter. And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s free!

 

 

Imagined Promise of Organization

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The Container Store gives me hope. Every time I go in, or even drive by it, I feel as though if I just find the right magical combination of items, my this time, my life will be perfectly, completely organized. This time, with this special bin and that special hanger, it will all come straight.

Of course, that’s what they want me to think.

But they’re so good at it. With the banners politely screaming in the windows, the store holds the promise that everything, absolutely everything is containable. Everything can be put neatly into a place, if only you purchase the right place to put it.

The store whispers to me about who I could be, if only I exchanged a few piddly bits of dirty paper for sleek, gleaming new opportunities. Take these things, and there you’ll be.

If only.