stories of choices and consequences
Having a plan for the year might be important, and having one for my life is probably crucial. However, sometimes I wander.
Find me…
on Substack for my most frequent rambling
on Instagram for intermittent photos of books, Max the cat, and my still adorable but not as amenable to photos teenagers
on Bluesky for whatever it is I’ll do there when I figure it out
Abbey returned from Boston last week, which means all four of us are under one roof again. It’s my favorite way to live, and I’m not oblivious to how short of a time we might have left with this arrangement. Summer intensives give me the opportunity to practice what it’s like to be separated, but I breath easier when we’re all together.
However.
We hardly ever eat together during the school year, and during the summer it’s even worse. (I know the research on eating as a family, and I enjoy it so much when we do, but it’s not feasible daily with everyone’s different schedules.) Not only is dinner sometimes eaten four times, occasionally in several different locations, so is lunch. And breakfast is another scattered moment, since some of us don’t eat it, and we’re all waking up at different times.
I don’t mind that my kids make their own food at various times during the day, and Dylan still asks for lunch more than you might expect. I didn’t love the days when I tried to figure out nutritious combinations that everyone would eat.
However.
The kitchen is a disaster ten times a day. Some days, it’s only a disaster four times a day and some days it feels like I’ve wiped the counter twenty times. Mostly, they attempt to clean up after themselves, but a granite counter and warm wood cabinets mean things get missed. The pans and pots and glasses and crumbs and eggshells multiply amongst themselves.
I understand one day I will only have to clean up the messes I make, and people tell me I’ll miss it. It might be true, but right now, I’m not so sure about that.
So. We all know I’m working on using my time in better ways. I hesitate to say “more productive,” because that’s a trap I’m trying to sidestep. What I’m seeking, at least right now, is a way to find more joy, creativity, and (cringe a little here if you want) fulfillment through the things where I focus my time.
You know what’s not helping? Reels. Tik Toks, depending on the day.
I know how algorithms work. I know the more I watch certain things, the more I’ll see related things. Yet the time I’m spending watching Reels created from snippets of Queen Charlotte aren’t really adding joy to my day. It’s not that I don’t think Queen Charlotte is worth watching; the opposite is closer to the truth. I want to watch it, “when I have time.” Yet, while I still haven’t found the time to sit down and watch an episode, I keep watching little bits and pieces. If you added all those bits and pieces, I know they more than make up the time needed to watch an episode.
The same goes for the rest of the time I waste clicking around on random things.
Now, I know recognizing issues is an important part of overcoming issues, but this one feels like it’s getting harder for me instead of easier. With all of the integration of platforms, I find myself falling into a rabbit hole of incomplete content, when I used to use social media for connection or (on rare occasions) inspiration.
I realize I can shift my algorithm by watching more content to related to the things I’m trying to focus on this summer. I’m not sure that’s the answer. I want to practice creating without the pressure of “should I make reels?” “this author’s reels make me want to read her books,” and that doesn’t even touch on the mammoth corner of the internet that is BookTok and Bookstagram.
I’m hopeful the more I try to fill my time with a variety of books, some of which can be read in snippets, unlike my beloved novels, the less I’ll find myself staring at a screen in the middle of the day, at least the screens containing things created by people other than myself.
One of my tasks for the day was to scroll through my photos and cull some of the things I just do not need any longer. Anyone who’s ever seen my photos can confirm I have an unhealthy habit of taking screenshots of things that I never pay attention to again. I mean to look back, truly.
I have screenshots of funny quotes or inspirational ones. I grab entire poems and mean to read them later, when I have more time to sit with the language. Some images are book recommendations, others are meant to be added to shopping lists or moisturizing routines or possibly lip gloss I plan to try when my four hundred lip glosses run dry.
Then there are the recipes. Some of them involve four photos, ingredients and then instructions that didn’t seem complicated until I hit the photo button for the fourth time. Dairy free or gluten free to try to alleviate stomach issues. Dips guaranteed to make stomach issues worse but parties more fun. Lots of cottage cheese concoctions to add protein. Desserts for the days when I want something sweet but forgot to buy chocolate or ate it all the last time I wanted something sweet.
The single thread tying them together is that they go to my photo roll and never see my grocery list, let alone my kitchen counter.
I want to be better about the screenshots. I want to declutter my brain and my life, not add to the random scattering of information that occupies my thoughts for moments before something new slides into that spot.
They’re a symptom of the scrolling I default to when I’m bored or stressed, the scrolling I’m trying to minimize, if not mostly eliminate. They’re all saved to be helpful in some way, whether it’s to make me laugh or provide extra energy or impart some sort of knowledge. However, when they all just sit in the photo app, they’re not doing any of those things.
I deleted some of them today, though probably not enough.
Maybe tomorrow I won’t add any more.
A small note to sing the praises of mascara…
Depending on when I work out, I don’t always shower and get ready first thing in the morning during the summer months. (During the school year, I work out before the sun rises and get ready for the day before seeing most people.) There are days I sit around for hours in casual clothes or my workout gear, running errands or reading or running Dylan where he needs to be.
It seems silly on those days to take time for makeup, and I generally don’t. Lip gloss or lip balm? Always. I can’t live without it. My other must-have? Mascara.
While it’s always been a favorite makeup item, the older I get, the more I’m convinced I would put on at least one coat even if the house started to burn down, and I REALLY needed to leave. Age is changing the tone of my skin (less blush, more monochrome) and the length and lushness of my eyelashes. They’ve never been a prime feature, but now? They’re virtually invisible without mascara.
I wear it to go on walks with friends, drop Dylan off at tennis, and to pick up groceries. Does anyone care except me? I doubt it, though I must think it matters because it’s become a serious makeup crutch.
This isn’t one of those confessions that leads to, “I realized I’m caving to beauty standards and don’t care about that anymore.” It’s a confession to say, “If my eyelashes look a little sparse when you see me next, it’s because I only had time for a quick eyelash curl and one coat of mascara. Hopefully, the next time you see me, I’ll have had time for at least three coats.”
Apparently, age hasn’t done away with some level of vanity around here.
I woke up too early today. After a restless night of sleep, and the daily feeding of Max that takes place at around 5:00 a.m., I couldn’t fall back asleep. I wish the cat’s breakfast time was a little later, but summer hours mean I can normally eke out a couple more hours of sleep. Today, however, I couldn’t manage to keep my eyes closed.
I made coffee and played my puzzle games (they help keep my brain strong, right?) and wasted a little time. During the school year, I would have used the time to work out or do something productive, but I basically languished on the couch like I was in a drawing room on a fainting couch, only I don’t have embroidery to accompany me.
I don’t expect either of the boys to wake up early today, since they were both up late. It’s possible that by the time either of them ventures down here, I will be ready for a nap, which seems silly. Summer months, when you work at a school, feel dreamlike some days. I guess this is one of those days.
I have a checklist to check, and I’ll do that eventually, but for now I’m relishing the overcast morning, the warm coffee, the soft, lyrics-free, playlist providing background for my still-tired brain. I wonder, for longer than I expected, why that tiredness doesn’t translate to sleep. Generally, I wouldn’t consider myself any sort of insomniac at all. I don’t always need a ton of sleep, but I generally see that as a choice, as I still need to set alarms in the morning.
If I do nap, I need to do it early enough that it doesn’t shift my sleep cycle too badly, because I’ve worked hard to move to an earlier-than-normal bedtime, at least for me. Now I’m rambling, which isn’t a surprise, because (like I mentioned), my brain still feels tired.
Tomorrow, I hope I can piece together a more thorough night of rest. I know from experience that this early of an involuntary wakeup will lead to extra hunger and possibly anxiety and all of the things I’m working to alleviate in my life. For now, I will drink my coffee and talk myself into a workout. Soon.