1. Planting all the plants I've hoarded.
2. Painting the wood panels on our house.
3. Randomly painting an old 1970s hutch.
4. Switching my closet from winter to summer.
5. Cleaning out the refrigerator.
6. Nick's class yearbook page.
7. A knitting project (was already in progress, but I cannot even finish a row).
8. Drinking an afternoon glass of Rose.
My wine was misplaced about an hour ago and don't have the ambition to find it. I am sure it will turn up, eventually. I also took a couple cat naps while writing this blog.
I have, however, completed the eating of all my meals thus far, but have not finished cleaning up lunch (dishwasher was full). I have encouraged my children to start with a massive clean up of their rooms (but not feel the pressure to finish it).
Everything started. Nothing finished.
In theory, I would feel more settled if I actually completed one task, but I cannot seem to get my head to that space where I finish a project all the way to the end.
Maybe, this is some sort of reaction to the stress of the work I do--deadlines around emails and blogs and written copy and event descriptions and presentations--so many presentations--and meeting prep and metrics and reports and time sensitive interviews and all the pieces that make up my work life.
I thrive with starting everything and anything. It seems I like to start it all, all at once and then see what shakes out. I mean if everything gets halfway done, there will be a day when it is all done, all at once and then I can feel an incredible sense of completion, all at once. I will be finished everything.
Of course, until I start everything all over again.
So, in that spirit, I am off to hang some accent wallpaper in my bathroom. I mean, I won't finish this project, but I'll get it a little closer to completion, maybe.