(Above: Hat knitted for Theo in Alabama. The pattern is called "Reid's Woolen Hat" and is by Heather over at Pneuma. Behind the hat, a gray, rainy day.)
Last year, for the first time in years, I made New Year's Resolutions. I don't think I was so audacious as to actually call them that, but I did to write a list of six or seven things I hoped to accomplish in my journal. I accomplished roughly zero percent of them, surprise, surprise, so this year I'm back to my usual New Year's stance: I resolve to stand up straight. I'm pretty much a sloucher, but from time to time throughout the year I remember to throw back my shoulders and hold my head up. Resolution accomplished!
I have to say, I would like to do a better job of managing my time. I seem to be exceptionally capable of frittering time away. Part of it has got to be the nature of keeping house when you're as unorganized as I am. You're doing a load of whites in the wash, so you go to various bedrooms to grab socks from under the beds, and you notice all the dust bunnies and so you go grab the vacuum, but you can't find the attachment, and while you're searching for it in the mud room you realize that there are an inordinate number of plastic bags floating around that needed to be collected and taken to the grocery store for recycling ... and so on and so on. In this fashion, nothing is ever accomplished.
(Not to mention that I can be stopped in my tracks halfway through any chore with the thought that wouldn't it be nice to sit down with a cup of tea and do some knitting.)
So a lot of days I finish up feeling somewhat fragmented and out of sorts. I'd had all sorts of plans for the afternoon--work on the quilt I'm planning, finish reading my book for book group, e-mail the missions committee at church, write thank you notes--but I was never able to get around to them, or only did bits and pieces of each thing.
I feel like there must be a system or a plan or a magic elixir to deal with this problem. Or maybe it can't be solved until the children are grown and gone and the only people left in the house are grown-ups who put their socks in the hamper, insuring the dust bunnies will go undisturbed for years.
The funny thing is, when I mentioned this to my mom, she said she'd had the same sort of problem all year, not really get much of anything done. So it's possible that a) it's the zeitgeist and nobody's accomplishing much; or b) it's hereditary, in which case I should just stop worrying about it.
Maybe that will be my resolution: to quit worrying about stuff. In fact, maybe I'll make this The Year of Accomplishing Nothing. Which will make it the same as any other year, only now when the year is over, I'll feel like I achieved exactly what I set out to do.
I'm a writer and a stay-at-home mom who keeps meaning to mop the floors because I think it would make me happy if I did. I love books and music and writing, spend entirely too much time in the dentist's chair (I bet I have more crowns than you do), and used to think I was sort of bohemian, but now I wonder. No tattoos. Minivan. That story.