The only reason I can think of that I feel disappointed in the productivity of my weekend after:
- pruning (i.e. sawing) the apple tree
- pruning (i.e. zealously hacking) the lemon tree
- zesting, juicing, slicing, and freezing three dozen lemons
- stopping at the library, fabric store, and Home Depot in three futile attempts to run errands
- going to church and leading after-church discussion group
- baking a double batch of chocolate chip cookies Just Because
- making an emotionally difficult phone call
- watching a 2.5 hour miniseries
is because I didn’t get the rest of my List done. You know, the List that includes:
- vacuum the carpet
- lay out clothes for the week
- clean the bathroom (I think it’s my turn because I haven’t done it in months)
- write my birthday thank you notes (from two months ago)
- clean my room
- make soup
- bake cheeze-its (so I can give the library book back to a coworker)
Each individually couldn’t take more than 45 minutes. So that’s only (calculates) 8 hours.
So . . . that makes sense then.
But I’ve been subliminally coached to believe that such a list is reasonably expected to be accomplished in one day.
I don’t blame Disney. Disney didn’t realize I would listen to Cinderella for a good third to half of the nights of my life (as a sleep aid to calm and relax me when I get anxious or unwell). I still do it occasionally. I did it last night.
But do you know, Cinderella is Superwoman? Consider. In one day, she managed to:
- clean the carpet in the Great Hall
- wash the windows, upstairs and down
- clean the tapestries and the draperies (again)
- not forget the garden
- sweep the halls and the stairs (twice)
- clean the chimneys
- do the mending, the sewing, the laundry
- give Lucifer a bath
all without indoor plumbing or electricity. She must have also cooked meals, took care of the barnyard, and done all the other chores her sisters gave her to prevent the stepmother’s “if” from occurring.
In 14 hours.
She then went out and danced until midnight, which frankly explains why she went loopy in front of the evil Stepmother the next morning, something I always thought was rather stupid of her to do.
So I always a thought such a list doable. Never mind getting tired. Cinderella didn’t get tired—she got going!
And now every time I can’t accomplish the impossible, I feel like a failure. How will I ever get to the ball if I don’t finish my work?
How will I remain sane if I do?
Thankfully, I’m becoming aware of my prejudices against myself and my time, and I will be able to better enjoy my hard work.
Because any time you get to be in a tree as part of a chore is time well spent.