If I worked 12 hours a day for a solid month, I wouldn't catch up with chores that need doing. And today is Saturday, a good day for chores, and I'm still undecided about what I'll do with my day. I'm sick of working on books. I've been at it day and night now for over 4 months, and the work has paid off. I've now got 7 books in print, and 4 more are waiting on me to proof read and approved them for publication. I feel good about all that, but I've neglected other things to get it done. It's almost like that old saying, "The faster I go, the behinder I get."
I could make a list, but I'm lousy at doing that. I'm also lousy at getting priorities in the right order, unless an emergency comes up that leaves me no choice. If I end up with a tombstone (something I don't want), it should be inscribed, "I'M NOT DONE YET." I plan of being reduced to ashes. No funeral. A year after I'm dead, I want somebody to host a big cowboy gathering for me so all my buddies can come and eat ribs and potato salad and drink a big bowl of punch. I want my ashes mixed into the punch, so that way I can go home with everybody. And they won't even know it.
But I'm not dead yet, and I've still got chores to get done. I don't often set goals, but I plan on having twenty books in print before 2014 is out. I can do that without writing new stuff. My stash of old manuscripts is that big, but I'd like to work on some new stories. I'd like to do a few non-fiction books before I croak. But there are obstacles. Chores. Lots of things to do, and here it is a nice Saturday, and I'm sitting at this stupid computer writing a blog. But that only takes a few minutes, and then I can shampoo the carpets and clean house. The wife is away today and tomorrow, gone to Dallas to spend some time with her daughter. She's driving down from Oklahoma City, and since they only get to see each other a few times a year, that's a good deal for both of them. That leaves me here with time to get something done.
I have a problem with getting things done on Saturdays. My mind says go, but my body says no. Mind over matter, you know, and matter usually kicks my mind's ass. Saturday is football day, for instance. The mind says, "Get your lazy butt up and do something productive," but my body says, "Sit down in that recliner and watch football." The mind says, "You're behind on everything, your material world is crumbling, and you need to fix it. Now get out there and clean out the storage shed, and shampoo those carpets, and fix something." The body says, "Aw, what the hell, it'll wait. There's always tomorrow." And with the wife not here to remind me of all the things that need doing, I'm more likely to listen to the body and do nothing.
I'm not sure what that means, and if you know, don't point it out to me. I already know that I'm irresponsible, and don't call me henpecked. Like all men, I'm female dominated. That's why we get married, you know - so we'll know what to do with Saturday. But in this day and age of informatin access, there's no escape. She's got a cell phone. Guess I'll just watch football until she calls.
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