I know–I should be more specific. Where, exactly, isn’t rationality? Everywhere, I say, and I’ll put money on it too.
But okay. I keep doing the same thing; that’s how I know I’m sane. I start these projects, knowing that I don’t have time for them. On the other hand, if I don’t start projects…how then the results?
So. Idea the latest: I can forget about waking up before everybody else, because I can also forget about either getting a nap in the middle of the day or going to bed before the thundering herd shouts thither. So instead I can wake up before everybody else anyway, but only by a few minutes, and pre-arrange some work to do later. This way, goes theory, later writing is jumpstarted. Maybe so.
Not so far. It’s first thing in the morning, or nothing, or at any rate very little. I love the quiet dark morning-time. It doesn’t exist. What now? What now?
Excuses abound. More software glitches; more interruptions. More blah blah blah.
It’s a little bit that I want too much perfection. You know, like always dictating text. (I’m dictating this right now.) And maybe even that I reject solutions involving 15 minutes here or there, as they can’t lead to what I really want. Not that they don’t lead anywhere–they do–and even to further places than I’m getting without them, but still. I am not satisfied with these.
I guess: if I can’t manage astounding, I don’t want meh.
Now comes the weekend. I’ll have six kids for the duration, and no time to myself until midafternoon on either day at best. Frankly I’m sure I’ll have a wonderful time.
Next week is a new week. I’ll be wracking my brain.
Have fun out there!