This morning and every morning, I sit with my coffee and day planner, crafting my daily chore list. Suddenly, it occurred to me that this routine has become meaningless.
I do it because I’ve been doing it for at least 40 years and can’t live without a checklist of activities (to make me feel important, perhaps?).
No. I think I do it as a means of procrastinating. After reviewing the list, if I spot something I really, really don’t want to do, I just move it to next week. Voila! Done!
I have things on that list (like cleaning out the gutters) that have been moved from month to month since last February. Ah, excuses. We’ve all got them.
In truth, that avalanche of daily chores may be just another form of procrastination. I can do 10 or 20 things a day, but if I don’t put in at least a half hour on the main project, I feel like I didn’t do anything.
I have two main projects today: 1) Throw a party for Daddy to celebrate his 87th birthday without burning anything; and 2) after everything’s been cooked and the oven is cooled, I’ll stash all the clutter in the oven until tomorrow when I’ll deal with it a skosh more effectively.