I got up this morning with a list of things to do. Not the least of which was, “Don’t let the kids play Minecraft all freaking day”. (If you’re wondering where my kids are, they’ve been playing Minecraft all freaking day.) I managed to get a couple things checked off my list, but then, poof! Motivation left me altogether.

I really do want to send my Clippo orders. I really do want to start making sea glass jewelry with all the gorgeous treasures I brought home from Newfoundland. I want to paint Mason’s room, and my bathroom, and I really want to refinish the giant dresser sitting in the garage. I want to go weed the garden, and finish the laundry and paint the fence.

In fact, I absolutely intend to do each of these things (along with writing a book, reading 50 books this year, and losing weight and getting fit) but my intentions simply do not align with my motivation. I need some kind of 1-step program dedicated to helping me focus on one task till completion, but it seems I’m happiest with eleventy-billion balls in the air, like loose ends of yarn. Which reminds me, I really need to roll up those balls of yarn.

But first I need to look through all our vacation photos again. Maybe I’ll print some.

I feel like I have a perpetual to-do list. Like that birthday calendar my Aunt Dorothy had hanging on her wall that helped her never forget to send a card to every person she ever knew. Except I forget to do most things and the list lives on.

About that road to hell and all my good intentions…