Tonight I had three hours with no one home that I could have used to get something done — my to-do lists are longer than ever.
But what did I do? I read news and blogs on the web and managed to get out in the yard and putter around for maybe an hour. Pathetic.
And what am I doing now? I have so little to do that I can write about not doing anything?
I’m perfectly willing to buy stuff and read about TEOTWAWKI, but when it comes to getting stuff done to get ready for it, I’m not so great.
On the other hand, I do hold down a stressful, mentally challenging full-time job. Yesterday when I got home from work I was so stressed out I could hardly think straight. I felt physically ill.
One could go two ways from there:
- So what? The future doesn’t care about you or your stress, it’s coming whether you prepare for it or not, so you better get off your lazy butt and get to work.
- So I deserve to have a little r&r on the weekends — don’t be so damned hard on yourself all the time.
And reality is undoubtedly somewhere in between.
Honestly, the worst part of it is getting down on myself for not working all the time that I could be. I can’t just say to hell with my quality of life, to hell with the things I enjoy, like reading and writing and working out. I can’t completely abandon the things I want to do for the things I need to do. But I can shift the emphasis.
And I can get more things done when it’s just me and the boys here (they need to see me accomplishing and working, and not just playing with them and reading to them). They’re old enough that they don’t need to be watched every second and old enough so they can and should start to help me get things done.