I always imagine that, at some point, I will be on the winning side of my to-do list. I’ll eventually have fewer things to do than I have already done, and the end will be in sight. Occasionally I dream that I will have nothing left to do, and then I can mess about being creative and frivolous (and play Xbox).
On my brief trip out to Washington last month, I drew up a to-do list in the first day or so, and then spent the entire visit adding to it. A few things were crossed off, such as “buy Xbox”, and generally I’m pleased with what I got done at the new house, but I left behind so many tasks that I felt I should have been able to conquer if I hadn’t been wallowing in illness and misery on the couch.
Being ill in America is very crappy, and I do not recommend it.
I have come back to the UK for what I hope to be the last time before I get permission to be in the US for the foreseeable future. My to-do list here is growing by the day. I grapple most with the strange way that other people’s to-do lists seem to end up being put on to mine, because I have “nothing else to do but wait around”, as I was told this morning.
How glorious it is when your work is tangible, and you can show somebody what you’ve been doing all day, when they can see you physically toiling away on an object or a task with immediately measurable results. What a luxury it must be not to have to explain that you might appear to be freely available, but you are in fact masterminding a global operation. It just happens to involve a lot of sitting down.
All I can do at this point is get my glasses on, get my head down, and get on with what needs doing, and attempt to hold it all together without having a meltdown.
I think Cowboy is expecting a meltdown soon. He usually knows before I do…