The way I have to do things (or always have in the past). . . this is what I did this morning.

  • Put plastic dj protectors on two books. Try to get them into mailers. I need bigger mailers. Decide we can’t mail these on the way to the mechanic’s shop.
  • Take the car to the mechanic for repair/inspection.
  • Come home. Wash and dry the lime basil. Salt some of it. Saute some of it in olive oil.
  • Work on knitting project.
  • Read email.
  • Work on knitting project.
  • Clean next batch of basil, Thai basil this time.
  • Cull 2 skeins of yarn from my office and put them in the “swap shop” bin.
  • Dry basil.

Before I got up from the computer when I wrote this, I opened one of the short story files. Went downstairs, worked on the knitting, then went for a walk with DH. Came back, worked on the story, then the retype of the memoir. Then went to the pantry and started reorganizing and straightening it, which is overdue.

Yes, things get done this way. Yes, it keeps the panic down and the panic used to stop me cold. But it’s ridiculous! Why can’t  I just decide I’m going to work on food preservation for an hour or two and do all the basil? Why can’t I schedule an hour for knitting? Or writing?

The really bizarre thing about this is that this doesn’t happen when I’m working for someone else. But at home? I’m a task bumblebee, dancing around: buzz-buzz-buzz.

bee dance

Absurd, isn’t it?


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