Delicious Sunday morning. Lukewarm coffee, because I got sidetracked reading yesterday’s paper. Meowing cat. Food bowl contains food? Check. Water bowl fresh? Check. I’ve no idea why he’s meowing. Oh – wait – the patio door is open. He wants out. That’s why.
Snoring boyfriend. Check.
List of things to do? Don’t get me started. I was discussing this with a coworker the other day...how our List of Things That Must be Done keeps getting longer and longer. If we let it bother us, it really nags and becomes unpleasantly present. Always in the back of our minds. After ten minutes comparing notes, we concluded we needed to tell the list to shove it and get on with our lives. Only one life to live, and all that. Right?
My list isn’t written down. It used to be. This morning, I’ve been debating whether I should write it down, just to get it off my mind. Is it guilt in not doing everything that’s on it that bugs me? Is the fact I’m afraid to forget some of the things it includes? I don’t know. I don’t even want to over-analyze this. Here I am doing it anyway, just in writing this post all about it. So I’m just doing random things this weekend. I was lazy all summer. I didn’t cook/bake/clean up, or barely. When I did, it wiped me out.
So now, since it’s Fall, I’m going to do like I usually do every change of season, and make resolutions I won’t keep.
Just not now.
