So there I was, having one of those days where the path of least resistance leads you directly into the slough of despond. Couldn’t seem to get anything done. Lots of writing due, zero ideas. So much paperwork to fill out, can’t even manage to spell the kid’s name right, much less remember who her dentist is or when she had her last physical or got baptized or whatever it was they wanted to know. The kitchen is a wreck, but why clean it when the rest of the house is just as wrecky, and we all know the wreck is due to rise like the tide and fill the kitchen up as soon as you’re done clearing it out? And so on.
Made the bed, still felt lousy. Got some pork cooking, still couldn’t disagree that existence is pointless. Looked through drafts, was confirmed in belief that nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could, and not in the fun “yes, but maybe I’ll marry the captain and have an awesome wedding” way. Looked in mirror to see how jaw pimples are doing, NOT ACTUALLY A GREAT IDEA STRANGELY ENOUGH.
So I says to myself, I says, someone needs to turn off these Octonauts and get some fresh air. I know! I’ll mow the lawn. Physical exertion is a stimulant, and nothing beats a freshly-mown yard for a feeling of accomplishment. It’s so precise, so straightforward, so rewardingly obvious when you’ve reclaimed a bit of living space from the jungle. Indeed, I will mow the lawn, and things will be better!
Now, where’s the lawnmower? I think I left it next to the shed, by the grapevine . . .
At least someone’s feeling ambitious around here.
I uncurled the clinging tendrils as gently as I could, hurled the vines in the general direction of the shed, and mowed my heart out, for virtue, for a life worth living, on behalf of all that is not dead yet! Then I ran over a left-handed golf club the kids brought home from the dump, and that was the end of that.
And what do you know? I feel a little bit better. And the grapes are doing very well, too.
6 thoughts on “In which I become motivated”
Today I started cleaning out Eldest’s abandoned room (she’s off at college) for Next Girl who is chomping at the bit to move in.
She has a half-bath with a black hole under the sink. Cleared out the black hole. Found: old and stinky shells from trip to the beach, irredeemably stained underwear from soon after menarche (five years ago) when that was still SO embarrassing, an infant sleeper (?), old watercolor efforts, packaging from sweets stolen from the kitchen years ago, and a small Belle figurine in a sealed jar of water. Hope this last was not some attempt at voodoo ritual.
“Got some pork cooking, still couldn’t disagree that existence is pointless.”
This is a perfect sentence.
I always hit those days along about CD 24… and am so glad I know why I feel that way and that it has a definite end date.
How can you nail it everytime..this piece is me every day it seems thankyou!
I had a day like that yesterday. Then I cleaned out the downstairs hall closet, dug through cartons in the garage to find more toy pieces for the little guy, figured out how to clean the filters in the portable AC unit, and my day was redeemed.
Oh, and today I resisted that feeling by taking my happy-to-help ten year old out to the neglected garden, where we tore out the old tomato plants, tossed ancient pumpkin vines (stupid pumpkins) and basically cleared out two wheelbarrowfuls of weeds. Then we made brownies and prepped dinner. Felt human again. Funny how that works.