Friday, August 5, 2016

Time Me

Sometimes the SJG forgets I'm not in training for the Olympics.  Competitive gal that I am, I forget that no one's about to hand me a medal or play Hava Nagila on my behalf.  Ever the athlete, striving for perfection, I forget that how fast I climb the stairs or speed walk through the supermarket is of no consequence to anyone.  And even though I sometimes call out the following commands --  "I'm making dinner.  Time me!" "I'm doing the laundry.  Time me!"  "I'm re-writing something. Again. Time me!" -- doesn't mean anyone in the universe cares how fast or slow I accomplish the task at hand.  All the things I attempt to do on a daily, weekly, yearly basis are going to take however long they take.  What's the rush?  Schedule your life according to a carefully thought-out plan, and there's going to be a delay.  Sometimes we get in our own way.  Sometimes it's hard to step aside and let ourselves through.  Listen, if life ran on time, we'd have nothing to kvetch about, and kvetching, as all the best philosophers know, is how we stay sane.  To vent is human.  To suppress buys you an ulcer.  So take your time, people.  Take as much time as you need to shuffle the deck, reflect a little, and complain.   You'll get there when you get there, guaranteed.

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