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This weekend has been fun: I’ve been as focused as a giraffe’s fart.  I keep wandering into the next room and finding jobs I started a while ago and got distracted from.  I start things while waiting for something else to finish and the next thing I know I’ve got fourteen browser tabs either uploading or downloading and crippling our wireless, a pot of soup boiling over and a vague sense that I left bread dough rising in M’s study (see, I had this great idea that I could knead while using the exercise bike and…oh, it doesn’t matter).  Have to wait for the kettle to boil? No problem, I’ll fill in the time by scouring the oven…which lead to researching oven cleaners online and how bad they are for your eyes…which lead to looking at macro shots of eyes and tears and droplets…which made me thirsty, so hey, I should have a cup of tea.  Oven’s nice and clean, though. And I’ve scoped out some good home-made alternatives to oven cleaners, since they’re way bad, it turns out.

Some days I’m like to-do-list barracuda: I identify major tasks to be completed and slice slice slice through them with an intimidating laser-like focus and cold, dead eyes.  Actually, I think it’s happened only twice in my life and at least one of those as when I was jumped up on too much pickle brine and bicarb soda — this is just enough times to make me think I should be barracuda-like all the time, and puzzled about the exceptions.

Other days are pleasantly floaty and I’m more like a to-do-list sunfish, politely and calmly drifting through the big, happy ocean and enjoying watching all the other little fishes. I abandon the idea of a to-do list and instead adopt a wouldn’t-mind-doing list.  I exploit my inability to focus by doing things that are fine for stop-starting and forgetting about: I swatched for my next knitting project, which only required me to concentrate long enough to knit a st st square while reading the Internet, then washed it in this morning’s warm bath water and left it to dry in front of the heater all day.  I woke up my sourdough starter, Pongo — I just had to stay focused enough to feed him more flour and water and then not accidentally throw him away.  That’s a happy place to be: the feeling that you’re just going to do some stuff and even if you don’t, it’ll still be cool.  Some days I really just want to let go of the idea “your day is valuable only according to how much you get done”, but it can be a hard mindset to get out of. So I shut up that stupid little voice that says “why aren’t you [doing life-changing thing] right now, you lazy slug?” and, after I’ve had a bit of a cry about how mean my internal voices are to me, I knit something, cook something, write a letter or two to some chums, and the world cruises on.

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