When I was working full time, I would come home exhausted, throw together a meal at the end of the day, half-heartedly shove the dishes in the dishwasher when the meal was done, and just barely do enough to keep the wheels turning because HELLO? EXHAUSTED.
I kind of have no excuse for that now.
And though I have a tendency to do the things I need to do, mostly because I can’t stand to be surrounded by chaos, I find myself making massive to-do lists for myself every Wednesday evening – things that I should do over the next four days.
Things like the furnace repair appointment and doing laundry and putting the clothes away and scrubbing the bathtub, helping the kids pack for their weekend at their dad’s, pay the house payment, write a blog post (…check!), return library books, etc etc etc.
Some weeks, my list is so long, I have to turn the paper over.
I find myself moving from task to task and never truly relaxing, and then feeling exhausted come Sunday.
Idle time makes me nervous. It serves me well to keep moving, to get things done.
This morning I vacuumed the crumbs out from between the planks on the dining table and then polished it. The sun streaming through the window shined off my table in a way that brought a smile to my face.
Results.
I like results.
So much of what I do in my life has no immediate results. My lists give me results. I write it down, I do it, I cross it off. BOOM.
I’ve been a list person all my life. I like lists. I like accomplishments. (And I LOVE how clean my living spaces are RIGHT THIS MINUTE).
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