I'm going to hit the ground running this morning, even though it's cold. After all, it's a brand-new year, I finally got paid some royalties I earned in September, and there's lots to do. A little light housework and my exercises, then I'll cut out the fabric I bought with my Switching Well money and make some sweatpants that fit (by local standards it's REALLY FREAKING COLD and my house doesn't have central heat and my figure hasn't been fashionable since 1501, so ready-to-wear pants are too low in the back), then it'll be lunchtime. After lunch I really want to finish up some research that's been on hold for far too long, but while I was futzing around getting those manuscripts back in the mail another one came due (not that I got a rejection, mind you; too many places have an "if you don't hear assume the form rejection notice" policy to wait for that anymore), so I should at least do the market research to pick where to send that before I go to the library. Oh, and I forgot to get cat food and a replacement wash wand head while I was out buying fabric yesterday. But it's - OMG it's after 8 and I haven't done anything but read newsgroups, comics, and writing blogs? Agh! I have to get moving!
Yeah, that's pretty much how all my days go. At the moment, that list of things seems doable, but experience tells me some of it won't get done. Probably the shopping, and I'm too realistic to think the pants will be finished, especially if I dust the bedroom first. Possibly not even if I skip dusting entirely.
Sunday night I watched the BBC adaptation of Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford novels, and Miss Mattie was telling Miss Smith how their father used to make her and her sister keep double-entry journals, in which they put down what they meant to do on the left at the beginning of the day, and what they did do on the right at the end of the day. She said she found it a useful exercise. It would turn me into a basket case. I always feel in the morning like I can do everything, and at the end of the day I never have managed it. Having it in writing day after day would make it worse. Setting realistic goals doesn't work for me, though. I don't get enough done with them. Something about aiming high generates energy.
"A man's reach must exceed his grasp," says Browning; and though that was a dramatic monolog and you can't take it at face value as his own opinion, I think he was right. At least, it works that way for me. I have to set big goals and put some pressure on myself to generate forward movement - but they can't be too big or I get tired and discouraged and do nothing. But that's not happening today. I won't let it.
I think I will skip dusting the bedroom and go straight to cutting the sweatpants, though. Oh, darn, I didn't think to prewash the fabric last night...
All I can do is the best I can do and that has to be enough.
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