You know how you’ve got twenty five things to do, and twenty five more things you just WANT to do, and you want to do whatever will be, somehow, the most productive, most efficient, most rewarding use of your limited time, and then you stand there, all the “need to do” and “want to do” and “should I do?” things swirling in your brain, fighting each other for the front of the line, and then you look at the clock and realize you don’t have any more time and you haven’t accomplished anything and now you’ve got twice as much to do tomorrow, and it’s all your own damn indecisive, insecure, muddle-headed fault?
(I’d elaborate, but I have to go do the laundry. Or maybe dishes. Or reorganize the pantry. Or pick tomatoes. Or clean the litterbox. Or write a shopping list for the bread and butter pickles I’m making and canning tomorrow. Or write a post. Or write four posts. Or make something for one of my neglected Etsy stores. Or read a chapter in a book. Or organize coupons. Or take a nap. Or a shower. Or both. Or….)