In my self-induced, pressure-addled brain, I am constantly bothered by my rather long list of what I actually do versus what I should do. It’s my internal disconnect, something I enjoy torturing myself with. The guilt, oy, the guilt! And so we throw another quarter in the therapy jar…
1. posting a list instead of writing an actual blog post with actual sentences and paragraphs.
2. craving and succumbing to fast food versus knowing how awful it is for me.
3. taking Things One and Two for what we fondly call a “drive through picnic”, knowing that the above-mentioned fast food is bad for them as well as instilling awful eating habits… There is an upside to this, which is incredibly self indulgent – you say lazy, I say self-indulgent, please let’s call the whole thing off – which is that I don’t have to get out of the mini-van.
4. ignoring dust bunnies instead of (ugh) vacuuming and cleaning.
5. spending hours reading outdated and often smutty fanfic when I have a very tall pile of wonderful, exceptionally well written (or at least highly recommended) books in my to-read pile.
6. spending hours reading outdated and often smutty fanfic when I’ve:
- neglected this blog for months, as well as neglected the above mentioned dust bunnies
- neglected tackling the incredibly piled up mountain of paper and detritus that has become my desk
- not watched the 3rd season of Downton Abbey (I can’t believe I actually have not watched this yet)
- not gone grocery shopping, thereby not cooked actual meals with real food
- created this list within a list, instead of actually utilizing sentence structure and grammar in this post
(this is as close to a confession as anyone will see about my most recent online time-sucking obsession, which is what I’ve been doing instead of wisely using my new found, non-Facebook hours on any given day).
7. an evening glass of wine or martini instead of yoga. This is right up there with wishing that clicking the keyboard to facilitate electronic payments for the gym somehow counts as aerobic exercise. Click clack clickety click…
8. getting Things One and Two away from too many hours on the computer or various video games/digital devices, when The Hubs and I can barely pull ourselves away. (hey, at least they’re not watching too much TV!)
9. succumbing to the too-frequent, inappropriate language that I inherited from my own parents. I consider the mouth I shouldn’t have kissed my mother with to be some sort of lingual birthright. Doesn’t mean I was too thrilled to hear my own kids smirking with glee while giving voice to certain words themselves. So we’ve instituted the “in the house, out of the house” as well as the “adult language is not for kids rule. These are remarkably similar to the (strictly adhered to) adult beverages are not for kids” rule. The language thing? Major internal disconnect, but thankfully one that The Things have accepted and abided by.
10. accumulating items I know should be sorted through and tossed. In my head and in my heart, my home is Martha Stewart organized, everything in it’s place in an appropriate fabric covered or tightly woven natural fiber basket, sitting on surprisingly placed, cleverly installed shelves. (I even have a Pinterest board about just this very fantasy). Very zen, very feng shui. Walls covered in soothing and coordinated color, peaceful and serene. My reality is that there is just too much stuff that needs to be banished, and then the remainder culled again, before my fantasy drawers and imaginary (but expensive) baskets can soothe my cluttered soul.
11. plans and intentions exist in stark contrast to getting off my ass and actually accomplishing said plans and intentions. (here we veer off into the land of psycho-babblish navel-gazing, which could spell the death knell of this list’s entertainment value). The whining stops here, because it’s time to drop 6 plastic garbage bags full of too-small kids’ clothes off at the school clothing drive…