Yesterday I lamented about not being able to write as I don't have a laptop. My notepad and pencil whispered, "Ahem." Did I begin scribbling away, crafting today's piece for your amusement? Hey kids, let's watch Penguins! I watched Penguins. My kids and I even critiqued it, they noted the plot holes, and how much better it could have been. "They needed better writers Mom." The notepad is trying to leap off the desk at me.
However, I've discovered, even with the tools, I don't get going. I have a paper shredder I've never assembled, and a cooler full of old bills and the like that need to be eliminated. I have a new swifter mop I've not taken out of the box and a photo shadow box with 20 slots in it, that need pictures. The stacks of not done feel monumental. I have books that need reading and reviewing, editing and actual writing, paper work that needs filing, dishes that need to be unloaded, a sink that needs cleaning, clothes folding, a child to be played with today in the morning and what am I doing?
Blogging.
Why? I'd love to say the fault is in my stars, but it's in the stars in my eyes, always taking on more, never finishing what I start without the need for if not cheerleaders, coaches to push me past my comfort zone.
While discussing the stalled project of Penelope, I recognized I don't even put the treadmill past 3.5 because then I'm not comfortable. Working out, like writing, like trying to live out a good Lent, involves going where we're not comfortable, going to the dusty untidy corners and pushing ourselves through that resistance. What I've discovered is, in projects and my fitness and faith, I'm soft in the middle but full of strong promise.
So I'm signing off to go take care of 1) paper work, 2) dropping of the vacuum cleaners and 3) go work out. I'll put the treadmill to at least 3.6. God willing, and me willing with God, all that needs to be done today, will be.
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