When I Catch Up
Dumped out on the floor, the contents of my knitting bag are a metaphor for my life right now: maximum randomness and inefficiency. The bag holds two projects that I euphemistically maintain are “on hold” (as opposed to “dead in the water”) as well as a selection of needles, yarn wrappers, and movie ticket stubs (nearly a year old)—all thrown in there higgledy piggledy and all hopelessly tangled in a rat’s nest of scrippy scraps of yarn from defunct projects.
But you know what’s really sad and disgraceful? Because this bag is such a mess, I’m actually using another bag to tote around my sweater project and it is rapidly becoming is just as shamefully disorganized. I’m like Beethoven. Apparently, he used to trash apartments and then just move to a new place rather than deal with the mess.
Why don’t I have an assortment of caddies, cases, reticules, sheathes, tubs, and capsules to keep everything tidily squared away? Or why don’t I at least throw away the old yarn wrappers and ticket stubs?* What is up with that? I’ve been like this my whole life, and it makes me sick, but I never seem able to sort myself out.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been feeling really short on time. I’m pretty busy with work, and there’ve been a few social obligations that engulfed some of my evenings. I keep thinking about all this stuff I’m going to do “when I catch up.”
I am never going to catch up. This is something I should have realized a long time ago, but it just now really sunk in. My time-management skills are rubbish; I am constitutionally unable to manage time. Sure, I get done what absolutely needs to be done—I ship out work assignments, pay bills, take nourishment (not always the most healthful stuff), keep groddy microorganisms from taking over the bathroom, etc. But there’s lots and lots of stuff on the same list as “organize knitting supplies” (a list, by the way, that doesn’t actually exist)—tedious chores that would take a big chunk of time but that would ultimately give me a sense of satisfaction. These things that should be but aren't on a list are infinitely deferrable and defer them infinitely I will.
Yeah, I know. I should make a list (I should! I should!) and just try to tackle one chore at a time. Or break down big tasks into smaller ones. Or maybe spend less time meandering aimlessly through the blogosphere. All that. I know all about it, but I never seem able to sustain that kind of discipline. How un-Virgoish of me.
Anyway, this was just supposed to be a short post that would in effect say: Sorry no time to blog for real tonight—I’m too overwhelmed and in the red timewise.
Oh, and I owe the entire Solar System an e-mail.
*I was so disgusted after I took the photo that I made order out of chaos (sort of). I rubberbanded the loose needles (pending the day I will have that assortment of caddies and sheathes) and threw out all the stuff that was certifiably garbage.