There’s a meme going around the nail polish blogs I read which has as one of its questions “what are four things you’ve always wanted to do?” The first four that came to my mind: visit Australia and New Zealand, visit Hawaii, knit a Kaffe Fassett-style sweater, and have a chauffeur. I’ve been reading other people’s lists as they’ve posted them and seeing so many things that make me think “yes, I want to do that, too!” I want to see the Northern lights. Writing a book would be cool—wait, no; I think I want to have a written a book, to hold it in my hands and send copies to people—that’s different. I’d love to be able to cook really well. I’d like to visit Sweden and Denmark and Iceland and about a million other places. I want to speak a foreign language. Some of those things are so impractical as to be impossible; others could happen if I focused on them. And there’s the problem: focus. There are so many things I want to do, should do, must do, that deciding which merit my time and energy and then spending that time and energy seems so hard sometimes. Sunday morning I ground to a halt, unsure which of the dozens of projects and chores and tasks on my lists should get my attention next. I wondered if the malaise that stole much of my winter and part of spring was back, and am still not convinced it’s not, though right now I am mostly able to power through the down moments and do things. Not necessarily the right things, the things which would be the best use of my time at that moment, but I’m applying the “action is better than inaction” and “something is better than nothing” rules of thumb for now.
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