Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – March 26, 2004
Another Bright Idea
Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – March 26, 2004 – My alarm went off this morning at 6:00 A.M. thanks to last night’s bright idea. In my mind I saw myself spring out of bed the moment the radio came on, don my workout gear and leap sprightly onto Howard’s conveyor belt for a brisk morning trot. What exactly is wrong with this picture?
Well, for starters I have a brutal cold. I’m committed to an all day compulsory course at TREB (that I’m dreading), and once again I have an expectation of going from zero to sixty in a nano-second. I’m doomed. So I struggled out of bed at 6:45, looked after The Alphabet Boys and headed for the shower.
Blasted “all or nothing” thinking at work again in my feeble little brain. One would think – after repeated failures at this type of planning – that I’d pause a moment and say to myself – “this doesn’t appear to be working” – but, oh no, not me.
The problem is that after yet another non-starter month at exercise, I feel like a bozo. Not quite correct, I am a bozo. Instead of repeated planning which goes awry, I need to think realistically about how to make changes. I really hope you’re having a good laugh at my expense, because I’m chuckling at myself. Lord love me – at least I don’t give up.
I’ve thought long and hard about this dilemma. Perhaps I need to stop thinking and start doing, and the time to do this isn’t on an over-loaded day when a rotten cold is playing havoc with the thoracic organs in my body – commonly called my lungs.
Okay, for the moment, I’ve abandoned my rigid thinking. Shower time is over and I’ve dried my hair and slapped on a bit of makeup and a dash of lipstick. I’m never quite sure if my eyeliner is on straight anymore and I gave up wearing mascara a long time ago because I can’t see to put it on. I really don’t miss that little beauty enhancing exercise at all.
So it’s off to have my brain inundated with data, case histories and other real estate trivia. Tomorrow is another day – more bright ideas are waiting in the wings and just as Scartlett planned on going back to Tara, I’ll plan my re-union with my treadmill. I’ll know for sure that Howard is really ticked off with me if I ever hear him utter Rhett’s famous one liner – “Frankly my dear I don’t give a damn” – but I don’t think that’s going to happen.
I’m ever hopeful of achieving this year’s goals and optimistic of a positive outcome. Perhaps I’m delusional – oh dear, something else to contemplate in the wee hours of the morning, when I should be sleeping, but am instead locked in a hot flash struggle with my bed sheets. Ain’t life grand?
Actually, the fact that I don’t give up and just settle for my life as it is right now, pleases me. I’m not a quitter. I’m a planner and a doer – I simply require some re-jigging of my methodology. Now that’s a challenge and I’m ever hopefulessed that I’m up to the task.
