I’ve been up since 4 a.m. making lists of all I want to do today.
Suddenly it occurs to me that list-making is a subtle form of procrastination. My list goes like this:
__ Paint my bedroom a rich shade of brown called cafe latte;
__ Write a stunner of a murder mystery;
__ Dig up my grassy perennial bed and start over;
__ Convert my dining room to a den and the front parlor into the dining room. I’ve been wanting to do that for years so why don’t I?
Are we afraid of stepping out of our tiny little playpens into the big old world outside? Are we afraid to break the rules imposed on us by generations that went before?
The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions. Could have. Might have. Should have. Someone said “You were born an original. Don’t die a copy.”
Have a fearless day!