You know, and I know, how difficult it is to use time well.
Getting up on time is hard. Please, just five more minutes of sleep in this warm bed. And then I roll over on my toddler, who, for some reason, is in our bed. Again. The warm bed’s magic spell is broken, I remember my novel, I remember that I do, in fact, want to write the silly thing, and up! I rise.
Doing first things first is hard. I’ll shower first, then pray. I need help waking up, after all.
Or, I’ll just check my email, and then I’ll finish writing that scene.
Or, I just have to put the laundry in the dryer. And the dishes. And maybe wipe down the toilet. And reorganize this closet. Then I’ll take care of the bills that have to go out today.
Or, I’ll check my Twitter feed – no, really, it’ll just take a minute! – and then I’ll check his diaper.
Kind of sad. Or naughty and selfish. Pick your favorite adjective.
But when, once every 2,814 days, I’m actually victorious over my slothful restlessness, the day is beautiful:
Prayers are said.
Dinner is made.
Miles are logged.
Scenes are written.
Puzzles are solved.
Leisure time is discovered.
Floors are cleaned, but…
..some messes are ignored…
…so that other tasks are completed…
…blog posts are written…
…and little ones are loved.
And that is why I love a well-ordered day.