Adventures in Magical Thinking, or My Weekend To-Do List
While Dave's out of town, will I finally buckle down and get some stuff done?
My fiancé Dave and I don't spend a lot of time apart. We really like spending time together - that's why we're getting married! Still, sometimes a special circumstance or work takes him away for a few days. This weekend, he's in LA, visiting a friend and covering a benefit gala for work. I'm here at home in Yucca Valley with Jasmine, who's feeling rather resentful about the whole thing. Sure, she loves me - but she loooves her daddy.
So I thought these few days would be a great chance to get some stuff done! After all, with no best friend to chat and share headlines with, to watch movies or TV with, to test out jokes on, or to accidentally back into an hours-long debate with, what could possibly stop me? Nothing, I reasoned. And so, as the weekend neared, I created a to-do list. It reads:
“GALA WEEKEND TO-DO:
Take Jasmine to Joshua Tree with our new park pass
Go to the laundromat (3 loads)
Get some fudge from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory
Do test run of that soup idea
Find a cute new hair color; apply it
Write up Substack essay about our recent “Seinfeld” re-watch
Track down reason the pharmacy hasn't filled that prescription yet
Order remaining Christmas presents
DEEP VACUUM
Clean the bathroom
Wrestle Jasmine into her new pearl necklace and headpiece for some cute photos
Alphabetize bookshelf
Clean out the car
Pair loose socks
Locate winter-in-Indiana clothes
Research price, 4 new tires size P175/70R14
Dave anniversary gift - either [REDACTED] or [SUPER REDACTED] - ???!”
Wow! Okay! That's a lot of stuff to accomplish. So now, 24 hours into Dave's 48-hour absence, how much have I gotten done?
To be fair, I'll go ahead and tell on myself by admitting that this to-do list is ambitious in the extreme. It really is. And when I make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself, a la AA, I find I must admit it: this isn't me. This level of productivity? I don't know her.
Still, I was a little disappointed to find that, halfway through my uninterrupted productive time, I’ve only accomplished the following:
Continue supplying brain and other organs with oxygen
Consume dinner and breakfast
Keep Jasmine alive
Sleep for nine hours
You may notice, as I did, that none of these accomplishments are list items. Indeed, two are involuntary bodily functions - I certainly don't deserve to be congratulated for eating! (Maybe for not eating?) And keeping Jazz sustained, if enduringly dissatisfied at her father's absence, is kind of the least I could do. You know, after I made this big deal out of adopting her and buying her special pearl dog necklaces and everything.
What could possibly stand in the way of unprecedented productivity? Apparently, I couldn't think of anything on the day I made that to-do list, but nevertheless, an answer to that question appears:
Inertia.
For the past month, Dave and I have done a top-to-bottom rewatch of the vaunted ‘90s sitcom about nothing. I’ve been thinking about this concept as I aimlessly browse the web, my favorite “Seinfeld" episodes replaying in the background. I realized that sometimes - for instance, this weekend - it turns out that “nothing" isn't “nothing" at all - it's actually a powerful force. And it's currently got me pinned to the couch. We passed TKO hours ago.
Maybe this state of affairs is a sign that I needed a break - I do have a disability that's flaring up right now. It's been tiring and painful and annoying.
On the other hand, maybe if I were a little more productive all of the time, fewer tasks would've piled up by now. Yada, yada, yada - I suspect the truth lies somewhere in between.
Why can't I get as much done as I want to? Is it really just my messed-up arm? Is it the ADHD I continue to try to treat? Am I a fundamentally lazy, incapable person? Maybe. Probably not. I don't know! If I think about it for too long, I'll get all wound up, and my “nothing" will not turn into "something:” it'll turn into “nothing worthwhile.” There's a crucial distinction.
After all, it doesn't redeem me, or my un-checked-off to-do list, by saying, “Well, it's true that I didn't actually do any of these things - but I did worry about them and berate myself extensively!” It's not like I'm going to earn partial credit or anything. (This is why so many former “gifted kids" of this generation find adult life almost perfectly designed to utilize precisely zero of our strengths.)
Still, to use a phrase that I loathe,"it is what it is:” imprecise, infuriating, and … undeniably correct. It's so much better to work with what I've got instead of spinning my tires, wishing I were a totally different person. So I guess I know what I have to do: put on my best squawking Jerry Stiller voice, tilt back my head to the sky, and bellow, "Serenity now!”
And frankly, for someone who's spent most of her weekend on the couch, it shouldn't be far off.
