I am mad. I am mad at myself. I am mad because I can't manage to follow a plan for one lousy week. I am mad because I am so out of shape, that a little manual labor wore me out so much that I couldn’t follow my plan. I am mad because I did not write all last week on Storytime, so I didn’t have a post ready for Saturday. I am mad because my focus is poor, my determination lax, and my drive over, my zip done du da-ed.
And before all of you lovely sympathetic people start telling me not to be too hard on myself, I say don’t. I deserve it. I am always finding ways to put off what I should be doing. I have a million excuses to give myself to rationalize doing it another day.
I am not hard enough on myself. I plan, I make notes, I have a million and one schedules, to do lists and post it notes. I ignore them when it is convenient for me. I spend all of my time planning, researching, and thinking. All excuses for not doing what I tell myself I want to do.
If I say I want to write, why then do I not write? Why do I allow the laundry and plants get in my way? My husband thinks I am talking to my trans-sexual boyfriend. Why do I allow that to distract me? (Well, that is pretty amusing.) Now, he’s giving my ear a Wet Willy. See how easily I’m distracted? I have no discipline.