Don’t know about you, my life refuses to play along. No sooner do I think I’ve nailed it to the floor, when it wriggles and morphs and evades my desperate clutches… again…
I want to be organised, productive and fruitful in everything I do. I want to bounce out of bed each morning, slaughter a few giants, mow some mountains down to size and go to bed knowing the world is a better place for having me in it.
I guess there’s always next week.
You see, this week I sat with my sick kiddo cuddled on my lap at 2:30am because she was feeling rotten and couldn’t sleep. This week I sewed sequins onto my niece’s dress so she can do that modelling contest her heart is set on. This week I made lunch – five times. Dinner? Five times. This week, my car got an unscheduled internal wash courtesy a frozen lolly that got away from my 2yo. I revised collective nouns and Afrikaans tenses with my 12yo. This week I watched her play flute – alone in the middle of a huge hall, scared silly because of her new braces and cried because I was so proud I thought my chest would explode. This week I phoned my sister on the other side of the country, snorted and sobbed our way through an overdue catch up.
There’s no way I could have planned all those into my diary at the end of last week, but there is equally no way I’d call any of them wasted time. Even now I can feel the sulky glares from the have-to’s in my diary. And I’ll get to them. Even if it’s during the 10 minutes between one thing and another.
So I’m taking a page from http://www.10minutewriter.com/ . I’m going to make the minutes count. Can you kill a giant in a ten minute chunk? Probably not, but you can get a good nibble off his toes. The trick is to stay at it.
Right, these 10 min’s are up. I’m off to play taxi.
Keep nibbling, your giants will fall!