the second 45

Hi, I’m K. and I have a time management problem.

I have a lot to do. Theoretically. However, as long as I do my major wage-earning, everything else can coast. Theoretically. It’s not like in the good old days when I had a garden and seasonal imperatives of preserving food. Or a church choir to whip into shape and music to fit into the liturgical year. Or kids. They take a bit of doing. Or a husband who had to be appeased.

The kids are grown. The new husband is content to live and let live. I do have to feed the pets but if I forgot I suppose he might get around to it sooner or later.

But meanwhile there are the thousand things that are always just a thought away. The thousand things are good, really. One project at a time, maybe five on the front burners, and I know I’ve still got some ambition percolating somewhere in here. When they are silent I worry about the state of my brain. But if I listen to them all together at once they can provoke so much anxiety that I need to retreat to my comfort zone until they fade.

Unfortunately, my comfort zone lately is approximately “comatose.” Not very useful. Not conducive to achieving even one of the thousand. I really need to get something done this weekend, some significant project that will allow me to tick off a small success. Reaching out for one thing is a much better way of dealing with the other 999; they get quiet temporarily.

I’ve been considering what could do the most for my happiness this weekend. Most of my immediate-happiness projects are looking pretty hard. I need to finish a novel. I need to achieve financial independence. I need to paint the kitchen. Not likely this weekend.

I need a bra that fits. And that’s a project that looks just right. Success would do a great deal to elevate my happiness level. I draft sewing patterns using Wild Ginger software, and bras are a challenge and a half, but I can’t go out and find (and/or afford) anything that fits very well. I think I will cheat and start with cloning an almost-fitting little piece of lace and steel and elastic that actually died a natural death some months ago. Its fossil remains may be the basis of a fabulous lingerie wardrobe. Or maybe not—but fitting is a lot easier if you’ve got something workable to replicate. And the thousand things are easier to live with if you’re too busy to listen to 999 of them.