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:
- grade midterms
- write an article
- finish a book
- watch “Breaking Bad”
- clean house
- weed yard
- walk dogs
- practice yoga
- write essays
- submit new work
- clean garage
- feed birds
- wash rugs
- read another book
- read a magazine
- watch “American Crime”
- make dinner
- bake cookies
- brush teeth
- 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:
- wrote frontier syllabus
- ordered textbooks
- graded tools evaluations
- washed clothes
- paid bills
- cleaned two bathrooms
- practiced yoga
- walked dogs
- washed dishes
- read two magazines
- shopped for groceries twice
- shopped at Costco
- traveled to SLC for a visit with HERS sisters
- traveled to Layton for bookgroup
- chaired Al-Anon meeting
- drove to and from DaVinci
- met with Leah
- outlined our paper
- met with Holly
- organized a step meeting
- washed the car
- watched “Mocking Jay, Part I”
- weeded half of the front yard
- picked up poop
- spread grass seed
- fed birds
- made dinner
- took a nap
- brushed teeth
- wrote a blog post
- 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.
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