So I find myself, on International Workers' Day, searching for a full-time job. I'm casting my net wide, wondering if the 8 hours for "what I will" could soon be co-opted by the need to commute to said job, should I find it.
It got me thinking about that precious time that isn't Work or Sleep, and what I do with it. You see, I think I've been going about this all wrong.
Before I go to bed at night, I start heaping things onto tomorrow's plate, even if there are remnants from the day still stuck to it. I get out of bed several times to jot down a few notes until I finally succumb to sleep. By the time I wake up in the morning, there is already a teetering, precarious pile of To-Do, and more often than not, it is more than one person can possibly achieve in one day. The Bedtime side of my brain apparently enjoys setting up the Waking side for failure.
I'm almost ready to dig in when I come across a list that my husband has made. I study it and then ask him, "Is this your gardening list for the month?"
"No," he replies. "The weekend."
Tonight, I'm going to wash my plate and put it on the rack.
wow big changes going on over there. these time zones are really getting in the way. <3 Stasa
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