stuck in time

It’s my spring break. So much to do, not enough time. I feel trapped by time. The switch to daylight savings time. I fritter it away–time.

List of things to do:

  1. grade midterms
  2. write an article
  3. finish a book
  4. watch “Breaking Bad”
  5. clean house
  6. weed yard
  7. walk dogs
  8. practice yoga
  9. write essays
  10. submit new work
  11. clean garage
  12. feed birds
  13. wash rugs
  14. read another book
  15. read a magazine
  16. watch “American Crime”
  17. make dinner
  18. bake cookies
  19. brush teeth
  20. shave legs

Yesterday in yin I realized that I’d spent most of my break focused on everything I hadn’t done rather than what I had. Negative rather than positive thinking.

Here’s what I have done:

  1. wrote frontier syllabus
  2. ordered textbooks
  3. graded tools evaluations
  4. washed clothes
  5. paid bills
  6. cleaned two bathrooms
  7. practiced yoga
  8. walked dogs
  9. washed dishes
  10. read two magazines
  11. shopped for groceries twice
  12. shopped at Costco
  13. traveled to SLC for a visit with HERS sisters
  14. traveled to Layton for bookgroup
  15. chaired Al-Anon meeting
  16. drove to and from DaVinci
  17. met with Leah
  18. outlined our paper
  19. met with Holly
  20. organized a step meeting
  21. washed the car
  22. watched “Mocking Jay, Part I”
  23. weeded half of the front yard
  24. picked up poop
  25. spread grass seed
  26. fed birds
  27. made dinner
  28. took a nap
  29. brushed teeth
  30. wrote a blog post
  31. survived the switch to daylight savings time

I observe time slip by, help myself to its elongations in the mornings and surrender to its protractions in the evenings. I pad around the bulging hours from 8 to noon: a cat, nesting into a shawl clumped on the couch. I dig into the meat of the day from noon to 5: a dog, dashing to the door, offering a toy, whining, circling, demanding attention. I flit about the flashing hours from 5 to 10: a moth, on a suicide mission to the light, crazed by the brightness, burned in the glare. To crash into time’s oblivion in bed, at last. No more time. Only time.

About BJ

living the dream in northern Utah
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