Getting Out of my Own Way
Yesterday was supposed to be my day off. Eve had slept over at my Mom and Dad's on Friday night and was happily ensconced in Grandma-and-Poppa-land ("I had pancakes for breakfast and macaroni and cheese for lunch, and then I told Poppa that I had all my favourites except nachos. So he went to the grocery store."). Matt and Angus were at a baseball tournament. The weather was perfect -- sunny and breezy, not too hot.
I slept in, had a shower, cleaned up the kitchen, did some laundry, read a bit. Then I tried to figure out what The Thing should be. The Thing that I did to make my day off count. So I wouldn't just fritter it away without due consideration. My husband accuses me of being terrible at Days Off; apparently I obsess and brood and overthink until nothing I do can possibly be good enough and I end up depressed and irritable instead of relaxed and refreshed. And to that I say -- well, nothing, he's totally right. So yesterday: I could have read more but I wanted to do something outside. I could have read in the backyard, but it's south-facing and fenced so it was pretty hot back there. I thought about going for a walk, but I was kind of lonely.
It would have been a perfect day for sitting in someone's backyard or at a cottage -- you know, lawn chairs, drinks, talking, laughing, kids running around yelling happily. That particular scenario wasn't available.
So I thought. And thought. And fiddled with my hair a little, then thought some more. Half an hour later, I was at the baseball tournament. Sun, breeze, lawn chair, fun baseball moms, drinks (diet pepsi instead of margaritas, but still), laughing, talking, kids running around happily, and my son smacking a monster triple and snagging four line-drives out of the air effortlessly. And I ran into my friend and we ended up going to see a movie in the evening.
It was a perfect summer day. Happily, I didn't overthink my way out of it.
(Yeah, I have no idea what that really means either. This post lacks weight. Oh, the irony.)
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| photo credit creative commons license |
It would have been a perfect day for sitting in someone's backyard or at a cottage -- you know, lawn chairs, drinks, talking, laughing, kids running around yelling happily. That particular scenario wasn't available.
So I thought. And thought. And fiddled with my hair a little, then thought some more. Half an hour later, I was at the baseball tournament. Sun, breeze, lawn chair, fun baseball moms, drinks (diet pepsi instead of margaritas, but still), laughing, talking, kids running around happily, and my son smacking a monster triple and snagging four line-drives out of the air effortlessly. And I ran into my friend and we ended up going to see a movie in the evening.
It was a perfect summer day. Happily, I didn't overthink my way out of it.
(Yeah, I have no idea what that really means either. This post lacks weight. Oh, the irony.)
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