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Problems Are a Bucket, Not a List
I rolled over and looked at my clock.
2:42 am.
Nobody should be awake at that unholy hour, but I’d been lying there for a while, trying to think of a reason I couldn’t just go back to sleep already.
My Oura ring tracks my sleep. It regularly tells me how bad I am at getting an adequate amount which sometimes adds to my brain’s resistance to sleep.
3 hours, 21 minutes.
Too many nights lately, my ring has decided I’m just taking a long nap instead of actually, you know, sleeping.
My to-do list is long:
- 40 separate, work-related projects.
- A house that’s 21 years old and, let’s face it, they don’t build ’em like they used to.
- Exercise? Not happening.
- Eating right? Maybe next week.
My to-do list is like a rope made up of a thousand strands, each one frayed at the end, and I’m trying to snip them one at a time with a dull pair of those tiny travel-sewing-kit scissors.
Futile.
There’s no finish line, no moment when the last thing gets checked off, the last email gets sent, and I get to put my completed to do list in a drawer, never to be touched again. The list is always going to regenerate…
