As the 'Things to Do' list gets a life of its own and grows like its on something...24hours doesn't seem like the length of the day I would negotiate with God if I was deciding on the entire scheme of things in the day,month, year system. Each day ends with a stare at the number of things that remain unticked on the list, bleary eyes, a crank in the neck and then some negotiated sleep. An instruction to the body clock to wake up early to finish where I left off before the upper eyelid caressed the lower and said it will never let go. Random eye movement during sleep tries to keep pace with the buzz in the head. Newton Sir, I hate momentum. The good thing is the words in the head crystalise and then I can write this the first thing in the morning. (Those with loving husbands - Beware. Reaching out for the laptop as soon as you wake up, isn't something they appreciate or encourage. If you need to do it, do so at your own Risk) But as this little blurt comes to an abrupt end as I look at the watch, the next emotion I transition to is - Guilt. I still haven't finished where I left off. The day begins with a backlog.
Six Ways To Sunday
3 weeks ago