Perfect Day

Moving just fucks everything up, doesn’t it? Especially if you are crazy into order, schedules, and planning. Like me. Mucho emphasis on the crazy.

I have joked about being a control freak before. But I was joking. But maybe I’m wrong. Wrong about joking. Right about being a control freak.

It’s crazy how much the disruption in my routine effects my mood. I feel restless, disheveled, forgetful, lost.

Unhealthy.

I can’t figure out what to make for dinner. So I order take out.

I’m too tired in the evening to pack my lunch. So the next day, I just eat junk.

I can’t sleep at night, so in the morning, I snooze instead of working out.

It’s been raining for ever and will continue to rain for ever, so I just don’t know what to wear, and my hair looks like Frizzycity.

I’ve heard, “Those who fail to plan, plan to fail.” And I am feeling it hard lately. Failing it hard. Who is that quote attributed to? Winston Churchill? Ben Franklin? Either way, it wasn’t me. Which means that someone else has felt this way before, too.

close-up portrait of Franklin with hundred dollar bills
Ben: I plan to fail!

I’m just going to use my blogspace today to day dream about my perfect week day. Orderly, Punctual, and Simple.

A fantastic and energizing workout. Followed by a cup of strong cold brewed coffee.

Early commute, before traffic.

6 small healthy meals.

So productive at work!

8 glasses of water.

It’s sunny, and not too humid, of course.

I am calm, collected, and mindful.

The end.

That’s all I want.

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