HumaNatural

Musings on the life of a writer, baker, enviro-mom, soapmaker.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Is This Productivity?

Today, I did seven loads of laundry. Including the folding. I cleaned the kitchen one-and-a-half times. I made two meals, including bean soup from scratch and cornbread (also from scratch) with butter and honey. I did the dishes. I swept the floor and vacuumed the rug and cleaned out the pellet stove and watered my houseplants.

I bathed and otherwise parented two children, one of whom has the following personal credo: NO FAIR! and the other of whom said "My hair is the most beautifullest because it's blonde and dark hair isn't as beautiful." I, of course, am a brunette. A brunette dreading her daughter's adolescence if she's already this narcissistic at four.

I gave my husband almost all day to work in the garage. Almost guilt free. I am anticipating large amounts of ass-kissing.

I also wrote one article for a local paper and walked three miles carrying 3-lb. hand weights.

And I needed to make this list because of everything I did today, only the last two things were actually on My List, the "prioritized daily task list" which is, according to Franklin-Covey-theory, the culmination of my deepest values-missions-goals and the barometer of my overall sucess.

By which measure, of course, days like today suck.

But someone had to do the laundry.

And that same someone has to take some pride in doing the laundry, because although it may not be adequately reflected in my deepest values-missions-goals, it's a prioritized daily task. And somedays, that's the best you can do. And if I don't learn to take pride in accomplishing these dreary-but-necessary things, I'll wallow in a sense of utter failure and futility.

But tomorrow, we're eating leftovers. And fuck the laundry.

1 Comments:

At 12:17 AM, Blogger Mary Louisa said...

Yep. It's tough taking pride in the things no one else cares about. But here's my proud laundry accomplishment: I now fold the laundry right out of the dryer before it goes back into the basket. Have I told my husband how I've changed for the better? No. Would he even understand why this is "better"? Maybe for one second. So this'll just be between you and me, Erica. Cuz I know you'll understand.

I hope your knee and hip are better.

 

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