This morning while I was waiting for the coffee I wrote out a list of the things I want to do every day:
- duolingo (15m, am)
- walk (30m, day)
- 500 words (15m, am)
- blog post (30m, day)
- hobonichi (15m, pm)
- 7 things journal (15m, pm)
These are the things that (I’ve noticed), if I’ve done them, I feel good about my day. 30 minutes in the morning, an hour during the day, and then 30 minutes in the evening.
These are other things I would like to do, if not daily, then at least weekly:
- sew clothes
- play piano
- take and edit photos
- water and take care of the garden
And then these are the things that already take up a chunk of my time in a normal week:
- take Leila to school (and help her get ready)
- pick Leila up, little things in the village, etc
- make dinner
- karate twice a week
- D&D two nights a week
- writing group fortnightly
Last year I’d been feeling like things were “slipping;” things I wanted to do were somehow getting bumped to the bottom of the list of todos. That’s why I want to have a relatively inflexible list of must-dos as I go into the new year, to lock in that 30 minutes in the morning, 1 hour during the day, and 30 minutes in the evening, in order to make sure that at a minimum I’m doing some things that I’ll feel happy about even if my day is busy.
Even if work is busy I imagine that I can make these things happen, though I’ll need to be a little more organised about the evening things on Thursdays, which are my busiest days, when I have to sort out an early dinner for Leila and I (we call Mondays and Thursdays “fend for yourself” nights because L+I have karate and so we eat something small, a little early), then go to karate, then home for a fast shower, and then I have D+D, that often goes till at least 11. But if I do my 7 Things journalling and my hobonichi maybe while I’m eating and before I put on my Gi/get ready, that could become something automatic.
It all seems so horribly rigid. But if I can lock these things in, in my mind, they’ll get done.
At the back of my mind is some niggling sense that I don’t know whether I can fit in trips to the writing studio as much as I would like. It all seems quite grand: trips into the city to have some “people time” around humans during the day, to wander around Cuba street when I’m not writing, to perhaps catch the ferry in on a regular basis. But it is starting to feel like a bit of a bother, which doesn’t exactly bode well. It’s interesting to note, in any case.