There is a long list of Things To Do Today next to me on the sofa, and it is daunting. Writing on my neglected blog is not on the list, but in true Procrastinator form, that is what I am doing.
Or attempting to do.
I neglect this blog because A) I am not a writer B) I don't know what to write about and C) who is going to read it anyways?
If you are, I will spare you the details of my to do list, as you probably have one of your own. How do we end up with such overwhelming lists anyways?
And I am overwhelmed. For years now, in order to Get Things Done, I have had to cut corners somewhere, usually housework. But I have not spent time with my friends, walked the dog, or had quality time with my husband (who calls himself, by the way, Mr. Peg Weber.) This has been bothering me of late. I miss my friends. I miss spontaneity. I even miss a clean house without all the clutter.
Virgina Woolf said that a woman artist must have a room of her own and money. I have my art supplies stashed in various corners in the house, and a dining room table that my family is getting tired of sharing. Well, that's not true- they are more than happy to eat at one end; it is me that hates stopping mid-project to clear it off.
And that money thing. I equate it with time. If I had money, I could quit my day job and therefore have 40 more hours per week to Do Stuff. This approaches nearly 3000 hours a year. Most of us are in that same boat, rowing like mad, so understand that I am not complaining, only wishing. Ok, I admit it-I am really feeling sorry for myself.
I have no solutions an it always comes back to a reality check: the house is not going to grow a spare room, and college loans must be paid. The only thing I can control is my approach, which is where the struggle is happening right now.
The cat is sleeping on my to do list. The winter sun is shining.
