Not Grandiose Either

[mrissa]

truepenny has inspired me not to get grandiose with the plan for the day. So here's what:

1. Sort and do laundry: sheets, towels, lights, darks, jeans.

2. Finish Chapter One of Zodiac House.

3. Finish letter to Lizard.

4. Do yoga.

5. Revise one chapter of Thermionic Night.

6. Bring in dried lavender and sage.

Okay, I think beyond that I had better play it by ear. See how long the writing takes me. Not getting grandiose is the point here, and I can feel my brain edging towards more numbered items. Bad brain, no biscuit.

Edited at 3:30:
7. Fix pepper beef and rice for dinner.

(The ones I haven't struck out, I've at least started, except for the yoga, which really ought to be done all in a bunch, though doing one or two stretches throughout the day is also not a bad idea.)

Comments

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Peggeleh! Now I've added "ironing" and "figure out what to buy or make for dinner" to my list. The former to my long-term list, but the latter is rather shorter-term. Sigh.

Ohhhhhh, uh oh. And now I've just thought of something else I should do, but I'm not telling you what. (You specifically, not lj as a whole.)

[mechaieh.livejournal.com]

And now I've just thought of something else I should do, but I'm not telling you what.

Ponders whether apprehension or anticipation is the appropriate response. Are there feathers or anarchists involved?

#1 - 5 now done. Need to cook the steak and spinach. Need to mix the paint. Need not to lose temper over telemarketers and stupid manipulative questions ("Do you like firefighters?"). On the other hand, I'm also thinking I should have answered "no" when asked if I was the "lady of the house." (And on the back paw, I'm thinking I need a nap if I'm letting dumb stuff like this get to me.)

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I became temporarily convinced that I would never be able to cook (anything good) again. This also seems like a sign that I need a nap, or a rest, or something.

[mechaieh.livejournal.com]

Yeah, that's one indicator. Another would be getting mad at a salad plate for slipping out of the cabinet and breaking itself, thereby depriving me of the (wholly theoretical) satisfaction of smashing it during a tantrum.