Making the most out of time
And how I'll forget to do that tomorrow
Good morning wordicorns and scribblers,
At 6 am, I had hopes for how my day would go.
I washed my face, and it got that great amount of sudsy that feels clean but not messy. My breath smelled amazing after I brushed my teeth, but my mouth didn’t taste like toothpaste.
I made myself a tea, took a step outside to enjoy the fresh chilly air.
I even heated a muffin before settling in my adapted armchair with a cozy blanket.
In the dark house, it was quiet. I was alone but not, and it was just right.
Words came easily the moment I turned on my computer. I saw it being a two to three chapter day.
It was in the flow when birds started to sing and the sun starting creeping through the blinds.
I thought, the sun will wake my family. We’ll have breakfast together and go for a walk. By 11 am, I’ll be done with writing and have balanced my checking account and spent time chatting about my day with the hubs, and I’d still have the whole day ahead of me.
That’s not what happened.
There was meowing and a dislocated hip and a neighbor’s cat chasing the squirrels outside and a car alarm and a big truck coming to cut down a tree across the road from us and a team meeting I didn’t know the hubs had.
And guess who didn’t finish those three chapters or go on that walk?
It all went to shit.
But I did get one chapter.
I did drink three small cups of tea and eat half a muffin in peace.
I made the most out of the time I had.
I don’t do that enough, I realized. It was an epiphany day. It was a day I’ve had over and over again—a day I’ll need to have over and over again so I never let myself forget the lesson.
Make the most of the time you have.
That doesn’t mean write when you have time. That means do what you are able to, what you can, what you want to when you have time.
Finish the laundry when you have five minutes, so you don’t stress later.
Paint just one of the three parts of your project because you have twenty minutes—don’t wait for an hour to do them all.
Fun, not fun, it doesn’t matter.
I’ll forget all of this tomorrow. Then I’ll have another day filled with optimism squashed by realism and remember.
We all need those days.
But maybe writing this (and for you, reading this), the next time we have lapses, the reminder will stick longer.
