Most mornings as I drive to work I make a list of all the things I will do after work that day – bake bread, vacuum the curtains, knit tents for homeless Eskimos, that type of thing we all do after a full day at work.
Most afternoons on the drive home from work, I rework the to do list. Maybe not the bread baking (who needs fresh bread at night anyway); and I don’t have curtains to vacuum anyway. I also don’t have the energy to go to the shopping mall to buy wool to knit those tents, so those homeless Eskimos can just hang out in a snow drift another night longer.
I have been doing that the past week in regards to packing. In the morning I intend doing everything on my to do list when I go home. That evening I stop and buy takeout and lie on the couch until it is time to crawl upstairs to bed. I sleep amazingly well despite the guilt and anxiety that everything won’t be accomplished by moving day…
I remind me of a scene from a Burt Reynolds 1978 film “The End” in which he negotiates with God to be saved from a suicide attempt, except that it is not The Big Whatever in my case, but The Flamingo Dancer. I let me off the hook much more easily!