As long as I can remember, I’ve been in a hurry. Never one to be late, I’d rush like crazy to get to meetings, work, church, garage sales – you name it.
Of course, I’d be the first one there, then fume while waiting for everyone else to arrive. (What kind of people wait to arrive at an engagement at the appointed hour?)
Hurry up and wait. That’s been my life. The habit also carries over into my private life. I race through the house vacuuming like a woman afire.
It’s become a personal challenge to get my lawn mowed in six minutes. Have you ever seen a slightly past middle-aged woman jogging with her lawn mower in tow?
I wonder if there’s a support group in town for rushaholics.
I have perfected the art of multi-tasking and can clean out the dishwasher, fry up bacon in the pan, pat the dog on the head and talk on the phone all at one time. It’s gotten worse since we are no longer bound by the length of a telephone cord.
I save time by making up my bed while brushing my teeth and watching Good Morning America. I stand in front of the microwave, impatiently tapping my foot while waiting for the popcorn to pop. That’s the longest two minutes of my life.
And I’m always looking for shortcuts to reaching my goals:
“Lose 15 pounds in 15 days” is my mantra. “Write the great American novel by Sunday” is on my to do list.
I spend most of my time teetering on the precipice of a nervous breakdown, and strongly suspect I’m a victim of Attention Deficiit Disorder. You think?
I’ll be pulling weeds in the garden and spot a lady bug. Wait a minute! I rush inside to the computer and google “lady bugs” and end up reading websites that describe how you can lose 15 pounds in 15 days.
How do you counter such insane urgency and the curse of busyness, short of going on valium or becoming a Buddist Monkett?
I don’t know, but if anyone has any tips, I’d like to hear them.