Last Saturday, I made a list of things I needed to do on Sunday. It looked like this:
–> call Grandma A.
–> update checkbook (did I get paid this week?) & pay bills
–> update Google calendar with game & picture changes
–> housecleaning
–> switch purse back to black one
On Sunday, I saw that Jeff had added two more items to the list. The first was:
–> Kohl’s
and that was fine, because we had a 30% discount, and I’d recently mentioned wanting to go to Kohl’s to look for some new clothes.
The other thing he’d added to my “to do” list was:
–> write book about my parents
By the end of the day, everything was checked off or crossed out, except
–> write book about my parents
But seriously, that’s not a one-day task. It’s not even a one-week or one-month task for most people who actually manage to write a whole book (which is really not too many people, comparatively speaking). A little later, on another sheet of paper, Jeff started writing some notes about how I might start the book, the kinds of stuff I could put into an introduction. Then he added a short outline below that:
Chapter 2 — on your mom’s life until she met your dad.
Chapter 3 — on your dad’s life until he met your mom.
and so on, and so on. He has continued to talk about me writing this book, every day, all week.
I haven’t yet decided if I’ll go back to work tomorrow — I haven’t had a lot of pain, thanks to the Vicodin, but I’ve also been really tired at times, and felt kinda fuzzy and unfocused at times, also thanks to the Vicodin (at least in part). So, I might have more pain tomorrow if I don’t take any more Vicodin, or I might still have that sleepy, out-of-it feeling from the two doses I took today. And if I stay home, I will get extra rest, it’s true, but I’m sure I’ll also have Jeff “encouraging” me further to get started writing this book. Sure, I always need another project! — NOT!!
Seriously, I love to write, and I might take Jeff’s notes and advice, and at least start writing some parts of my story, and of my parents’ stories. But I’d have to take baby steps, to not become overwhelmed. I wouldn’t be “writing a book,” I’d just be “doing some writing” and/or “working on something.” Would my life give me enough time to do it, though? There’s work, and a couple of work-related trips coming up in the next few months, and the boys and their baseball and other activities, and Jeff, and Jeff possibly getting back to work in a handful of weeks (if all goes well). And of course, there’s my reading, which is important to me, which soothes my rough emotions, but also marks new and exciting paths through my mind. (And there’s this blog, which I’ve recently “redecorated,” and where I’d been hoping to spend more time.) Very often, my reading helps my writing. How can I have time for both, and for all my other responsibilities? I don’t know. But I suppose I’ll never know, if I never begin.