It’s Sunday morning and the paper’s partially read, I’ve reheated my coffee twice and there’s laundry to be folded. There’s also unplanted plants waiting in the garden along side the bags of mulch waiting to be spread. The closet was cleaned out yesterday, but bags of undelivered clothing donations in the living room. I’ve grocery shopping to do and I need some new shoes. Just getting the basics done seems a daunting list of tasks.
Focus. That might be what I lack. I should have a to do list, prioritized and just notch off item by item. I’ll have to put make a list on my list. Oh and add to the list, do my nails, hair and run. So with everything I have to do, I sit here and write. I find myself wanting more and more to write which is great but what I want to write is as scattered and varied as to do list. There’s of course the jokes which are being written too few and far between these days; the book to start, writing a book has always been a childhood dream along with becoming a baker; and the blogs, some paid some for fun, and my other interview to essay project.
Writing always falls to the bottom of the list though. Some of the more tangible tasks take priority. That has to change if I want writing to be the future. It’s hard to create the future when you are living in the present. The present is louder than the future. The day doings scream at me. The piles of mail that need sorting and the dust covered sills that need dusting. But first I better go plant those plants, it looks like rain the very near future…but I’ll be back here later today writing, crafting the future. It’s now on the list.