The Restorative Effects of an Accomplishment, Any Accomplishment
It's Saturday at 5:15 am and I'm awake, anticipating my cat alarm clock will go off at any moment to say "feed me." She does this every morning sometimes starting at 4, meowing and gently touching me on the forehead with her paw to rouse me. She wants to eat. But she doesn't seem to understand on Saturdays I can sleep in, as long as I can fend off thinking of all the things I have to do today.
I get up cautiously so as not to re-injure my lower back. I've been moving very slowly the last few months, like an old man I see hunched over near work. I don't want to end up like him but it's getting close: too close for comfort. I have a lot to do today. Is my tooth hurting again? I can only take one physical malady at a time before I start the day ruminating.
I'm waiting for an important phone call. I want to write another blog post. I'm collaborating on an art project. I need to get a friend some info for a grant proposal. I'm trying to find a live photo printer who can reprint some of my photographs for a library that's decided to buy my work. (Years of no sales end exactly two weeks after I dismantled my darkroom. The irony isn't lost on me.) I'm trying to find images that will make my PowerPoint presentation shine at the conference I will be speaking at in April. And, of course, Mercury is in retrograde again.
My days always start out with a lot of promise, the promise that by the end of the day I will have accomplished an assortment of glorious things. Hope is always on the horizon as the sun rises. As the sun sets, ending with a full list of these achievements is how I evaluate the success of each day. Doesn't everybody?