The June to-do list has way more ink on the page, but somehow it looks way more manageable than the previous two months. Part of that is because I itemized the cleaning section into fine details, so while there are way more things listed, they are super short and easy. The other reason is almost everything on there is something I want to be doing rather that an anxiety-producing trial I must endure before having time to myself. This is the time to myself. And if I fill it with things like "clean and organize the liquor cabinet" and "finish painting the kitchen," that doesn't make me weird. It makes me happy.
The list is in the living room currently, and I can't go get it to mark things off it. I am on the bed, buried under about 230 pounds of cuddles. I have two large dogs, and a large and small cat smushed up against me. I shall be lucky to have a sliver of bed to sleep on tonight. I will sleep well, knowing that I've already tackled one thing (putting away laundry), that enabled another (finding the return information for the recalled CPAP that I need to return for a partial refund). I enjoy marking lines through listed tasks. It's a sweet little dopamine hit each time.
I expect to make a lot of progress on this third list over the next ten days. The Mr has set out on a road trip, delivering the ugly farm truck to a friend who happens to have a farm and could benefit from a cheap truck (I suggested giving it for free). He's going to pass by the new home of our former neighbors for a visit on the way, and for that I am jealous. I miss them intensely. All of us down here do, even Valerie. While Mr S-P is gone, I won't have him dropping extra side-quests on me, hijacking my groove. This is why I wrote so much down for June. I will be able to focus. Well, as much as I am capable of.
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