My brain has been busy dictating blog posts to fingers that are too busy to redirect my feet towards a keyboard. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes since April, and yet I have no viable explanation for how I could possibly still be going. Maybe it’s the every-third-day cup of coffee or the new pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge. Maybe it’s the empty gallon Ziplock bag that once housed a batch of cookies, frozen, in the freezer.
(They didn’t stay in the freezer nearly long enough to be called anything but a momentary delight.)
The truth is I’m getting through each day. I’m picking myself up and getting certain things done while others. just. wait. Some things I’m pretty proud of — like getting back into the gym (carefully) after a year of pain and signing back up with my trainer. Like devising a method of cleaning cat puke out of my white carpet without leaving a faint stain. Like traveling to New York City for the day with my dear friend Sarah J. and not getting lost in Manhattan or missing our bus home.
Some things were necessary — like buying a new computer and spending time downloading programs and getting it situated to become a place where I can work again (almost there!). Like taking the Jack the Mac up to Annapolis to get a new battery and fans. Like all of the things I do that go along with the job of being the president of my community’s HOA.
And some things were just neglected — like the homework assignments for my online “Ed2Go” class on Travel Writing, which seemed perfect at the time I signed up for it but quickly became the least important thing in my life. Like washing my filthy car, which by now really needs an intensive wipe-down, wax and paint touch-up job. Like calling people back after they’ve left me messages on my phone.
In between all of these proud of things, these necessary things, these neglected things, were a million-and-a-half other things… Laundry. Reading books. Trying to wrap my head around going gluten-free. Cleaning the toilets. Feeding the cat. Balancing the checkbook. Stressing. Clearing out old magazines. Following up with health concerns despite doctors being dismissive of my concerns. Sleeping. Filling prescriptions. Paying bills. Wiping down the counters. Wearing my retainer. Petting the cat. More laundry. Washing dishes. Hanging up some artwork. Writing thank you notes. Going to work. Putting gas in the car. Getting injections in my shoulder. Worrying. Visiting my friends. Throwing out rotten food from the refrigerator. Making appointments. Keeping up with my Google Reader. Thinking. Dreaming.
When did I ever have time to dog-sit? When did I ever have time to hit the gym three times a week, sometimes four? When did I ever have time to cook myself a decent dinner and enjoy it without doing something else while I ate, or rushing through it to go do something else? When did I ever have time to relax and enjoy the small moments of my life?
When will I run out of things “to do”? Or, better yet, when will I learn to manage my “to do” list better — saying “No” to certain things before they even make the list? I’m learning. At least, I like to think I’m learning. I have plans to let go of certain things in 2010… things like a position on the Board of the HOA. Things like signing up for more online classes when I really do my best in a classroom.
But first I know I’ve got serious things to do — I’ve got to read through my assignments and take the final exam for this online class. I’ve got to go to an appointment with a new Primary Care Physician this week, and continue seeking answers for my health questions. I’ve got to set a date for and hold an Annual Meeting for my neighborhood and hopefully elect my replacement.
I’ve also got fun things to do — like driving down to South Carolina to visit Steph, Kolter and their new baby, Kale. Like going camping with Sarah and Keith in Ohiopyle State Park and touring two Frank Lloyd Wright houses. Like going to yoga class with Aimee.
Somehow, I’ve just got to remember that the fun things are FUN. And the serious things won’t KILL me. And the neglected things won’t HAUNT me. And that really, in the big scheme of things, I’m still a functioning human being even if I sometimes feel like a robot.