Friday, 7 August 2015

On lateness and Getting Things Done



My children are now at the age I remember well from my own youth. The not-helping-nor-understanding-why-mum-wants-to-tidy-up age. There they are, busy watching other children open toys on YouTube (what is WITH that?), oblivious to me tidying around them, deaf to my requests for help until I take it up to I’M COUNTING TO FIVE! I’M GOING TO HOOVER UP YOUR LEGO! or other such evil threats that get them leaping into the air and squealing as if the house were on fire.

This house is small. Lovely, but it’s small. Mess has a life of its own, billowing up like a dust storm overtaking every floor, every room. I used to think the open plan ground floor in the old house was to blame for the tidal wave of toys that encroached into all corners, a high tide of plastic magazine cover flotsam crushed underfoot, but now I realise it is just how kids are. They don’t notice their surroundings, they just live in the moment, their attention turned to toys or telly or tea. Whatever’s in front of their face at that particular moment.

And, if I’m honest, it’s kind of how I am as well although my pride makes me keep on top of things, more or less. I can’t blame them for behaving like kids. But I could probably sort my own stuff out.

Recently, I read a piece about how people who are habitually late don’t do it out of slackness or disrespect. Instead, they are optimists, mistakenly believing they can achieve more than is possible in the minutes or hours until they have to be somewhere. Once upon a time, I was never the late one. Conscientious and diligent, I prided myself on always being on time, finding my late friends more than a little irritating. Times have changed, and I struggle to be anywhere on time - or (don’t be silly) early - these days. It’s not rudeness or a lack of consideration behind my tardiness, but a list-and-a-half of things to do. I’m deluded, basically.

This weekend, I believe it possible for me to achieve the following:
Laundry - wash, dry, change the linen on three beds, plus clothes
Photograph and blog several recipes/products
Have a barbecue/brunch with neighbours
Go for two runs
Do some gardening
Play cards
Clear out the box of junk that’s accumulating in the dining room
Go for a swim
Bake a brioche loaf
Clean the house 
Eat out on Saturday and Sunday evenings

Oh, and I’ve said I’ll knit a bat for my youngest. KNIT. A. BAT.  

Optimistic? Or just idiotic? Having kids has changed my perception of time to such an extent that I’m not sure what’s real anymore. And now, having chunks of time away from my kids, I’m re-evaluating everything, trying to weight my time accordingly, stockpile my errands, and tick things off at record speed. I’m kidding myself, aren’t I?

Does lateness annoy you? Are you an on time kinda person? Or are you one of us...?



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