Over the next three days I have 1)about five hours of homework due 2) four hours of class to bus to and attend 3) a blog to pay attention to 4) laundry to wash and put away 5) Madrona Fiber Arts Festival to pack for 6) assessment on whether or not my spinning wheel will fit in carry-on luggage 7) my boyfriend to pay attention to and 8) Sweet Russian Cabbage Soup to make (nonagenarian cabbage rusting away in the fridge as I type). Today, my first free day in ages, I chose to address this:
Somehow, I cannot seem to concentrate on heavy duty items like the to-do list above with a mangy, skanky, filthy bedroom. (I think this is the worst it has ever been.) I cannot make my brain get organized enough to drill fingerspelling or practice drafting weaving patterns unless… unless what? Unless I lull myself into a false sense of security with hours of light-thought work and great music? Unless I have some indication there is a foundation of organization upon which I can depend? Unless I procrastinate so long I have no choice but to drill, draft, or fail? (I am a former book production editor; I am very good at beating a deadline, but still, migod.)
Somehow I thought the laid-off life would be more glamorous than this.
Ps: I did get in that nap, though.