In the midst of tackling Mt. Washmore and using my Psychology degree on a ten week old puppy AND two children–wait, make that three–and doing all the things that Monday brings to be done, I had hopes of doing something out of the ordinary. Like finish a painting that Mess Cat is pretty much convinced I will never finish, I am sure. Or working on a new crocheting project. Or, I don’t know, maybe reading one of the bajillion books I have waiting on me. ALL OF THEM guaranteed to be excellent.
But instead I unloaded the dishwasher and took care of vet appointments and math lessons and thought about how I really don’t have the time to do these things I’d really like to.
And then I heard him.
“You don’t have the time or you don’t make the time?”
It was my Daddy this time. Yeah, I’ve heard him say this before. A time or two. Or ten.
He was right then just as he is now.
Because in truth, there are a million little moments each day that I piddle. I don’t focus, I let myself get distracted. I spend five minutes on Facebook, ten on Pinterest (pinning ideas I rarely make time to try), and fifteen clicking this and that on the Internet until I’ve almost forgotten what I sat down to look up to begin with.
And there you go, a half hour that could have been spent focused on a book I want to read or crocheting a little bit more on my project. Or sorting through things in the littles’ rooms. *sigh* But that’s an entirely different thing all together.
Daddy once told me a story. Two men were sitting in a restaurant bar, and the first guy says to the second, “Hey man, let me buy you a drink?” The second guy says, “No, I’m good. Thanks.” First guy: “Aww, c’mon, man, just one drink.” Second guy: “No really, thanks anyway.” A couple of minutes later the first guy tries again, “Let me buy you that drink now, okay?” The second guy shakes his head and says, “No, I don’t drink.” First guy: “Well why not?” Second guy, after thinking for a minute, replies, “Because I just had a cigar.” The first guy stops for a second and then says, “Just had a cigar? What does that have to do with anything?”
It’s just an excuse. And when you’re looking for a reason, for an excuse, a cigar is as good as any other.
Daddy and I used to talk about our cigars and what other folks used as their cigars. “I don’t have time” is used a lot. But here’s the deal. If I really wanted to, if I focused, I could make time and get to read some on my book du jour. Or I could plan it out to take my crocheting with me and work on it in the doctor’s offices or dance room waiting areas instead of pulling out my phone and cruising through other people’s business. Or people watching–again, other people’s business.
But instead, I say I don’t have time.
That’s my cigar.
My friends, it is time I “quit smoking” and making excuses. It’s time I quit tossing out, “Well we’re too busy” or “Maybe when things get back to normal” or “My house just isn’t up to par yet” and let those all go. For good. I want to do these things that I enjoy. And my life doesn’t make them prohibitive; my not “making” time to do them does.
I am not sure I’m ready for Technology free Tuesday just yet, but I think I’m going to try to make my mind a cigar-free zone and see what I can make time to do. No excuses.
The only thing standing between these things I want to do and me is ME.