Free? Right

Just yesterday, the “meditation” in the Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy book was all about handling the unexpected. We have a choice: we can panic, scream, and rage against the Universe, or we can take a deep breath and go with Plan B.

I enjoy this book, morning musings on days when I send the boys to camp or school, afternoon musings if I don’t get a moment until everyone naps. I was happy yesterday morning; I had a lot on my to-do list and was looking forward to having three hours to tend to my little tasks at a pace I set for myself. I was looking forward to answering to myself, to taking care of my family at something less than warp speed.

Huzzy of course interrupts this by telling me that his best friend will be dropping by in about 15 to meet the baby. I looked around at the layer of dog fuzz all over, the dishes piling up, the boys’ underpants inexplicably on the kitchen counter, and my own hair trying to be all things to all people…and did I calmly go with Plan B?

Of course not. I panicked. I ranted. I raved. I HATE drop-in visitors, mostly because despite my best efforts, the house is usually three steps away from being declared a war zone. Moreover, I hated the idea that my three hours were gone. I lost my me-time.  Those three hours three times a week are my sanity, my meditation, my exhale.

And I lost it again today and will for the remainder of the week (all those stolen moments) because I didn’t say no to a friend’s request for help. Or, more precisely, said yes to something I didn’t quite fully understand the scope of. She is attempting to get tenure at a University, she is presenting a paper and asked if I would review video to help her analyze the theatrical elements of a piece. What I didn’t realize until after I said yes was that I’d be looking at 10 videos, each different and difficult to analyze, and she needs it by this weekend.

So I feel pulled again, and exhausted. And I’m slogging through the videos, writing my thoughts and wondering why my Plan B never feels like anything but a tornado drill.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s