2/28/2019
One a week, ideally

Twenty-four hours is not enough, not at all, for the things I realize I had to do today.

Apart from the work I already do - juggling, with varying degrees of success, several events on the horizon - I have to pack for a trip to Cebu tomorrow. I have to make sure I don't forget anything, even if I already have a good idea what to pack, to the point that I've done a lot of pre-packing, but not the actual packing itself. Does that count as packing somehow?

And then I realize I have to do a short presentation for that event in Cebu tomorrow. I would've done it today, but I was swamped. I can do it before the event itself, right? Unless they've scheduled me to talk at the very beginning, in which case, there goes my opportunity to impress.

I would've had more time but I had to get a haircut today, and then I had to pay some bills. And then I learn my wallet is starting to break apart, so I have to buy a new one. I take a while to pick, so that took some time. And then I had to drive to Shalla, because we're not meeting this weekend - because I'm in Cebu, duh - and we had to discuss some things in person. (Don't worry.)

And then there's this blog entry, because it's the end of the month and it's the fourth of the month. I should be doing one a week, ideally, but again, you know how things are lately. And I've an album review to write, although I did kind of squeeze that in while driving.

So, right now, with forty-five minutes to go before midnight, I'm writing, and packing, and letting this sheet mask do its thing on my face, all aware that I have to wake up at half past three tomorrow. Or maybe four. Where is my bag tag? Who put my bag tag where I'm not going to find it?

Twenty-four hours is not enough, not at all, for the things I realize I had to do today. And yet they tell us to take a break. We tell ourselves to take a break.

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