I have received a book recommendation. Nine Kinds of Naked. Sounds risque, right? I’ll have to add it to the pile of books on my nightstand which is currently five deep. Not to mention the books that haven’t even made it to the nightstand yet. How will I ever manage?
I had a good bit of desk time yesterday wherein I redid my daily schedule, reviewed my budget, ordered my planner refill, and hung one of my three dry erase boards.
The schedule part, which is always the most complex part of my life, led me to look at the paper planners I’ve used for the last three years. Yes, I still have them.
See, I realised earlier this year that I always order a starter kit with my planner refills. The starter kit is, of course, bits of each of the best sellers and is meant to help you discover which things you use. It is also a lot of paper to purchase and use only partially. I am making an effort to be more Earth-friendly this year (to offset all this driving I’m doing?) so I went through the old stuff and figured out what I need.
I ended up with the two-page-per-month kind since I am good at entering my appointments in my phone but that same phone is not useful for giving me an overview of my month. It’s not even useful to give me an overview of my week sometimes.
What surprised me most is how much I do. I almost agreed with all those “M”s and Those Boys out there that have been telling me that I do too much. Almost, but not really.
And to be fair, it’s not that I ever have had illusions about being busy. It’s not that I’ve been getting six hours of sleep a night, working six days a week and assuming that everyone in the world does it this way. It’s just that it looks so much more daunting on paper. I mean, if someone were to hand me that schedule and say “This is what you’ll be doing for the next three years” I might not have believed them.
There are funny quotes in there, too. Things that people have said about me or around me. Directions written, inspirations remembered, mini-poems scrawled while waiting for the next appointment; they’re all in there. So I got some lined paper refills, too.
There are a few appointments that I am entirely unable to recall, some of those are with people I don’t remember at all. I’m fairly certain they just don’t exist, sometimes, but whatever they were they were apparently business. Reciepts stapled to pages and budgets ‘vised and revised. A log of my business mileage, lists of events to attend and mingle. Clearly, I needed the financial pack and some downloaded business pages as well.
As for dating? Enh. It’ll go where it can go, I guess. Franklin Covey doesn’t have “Keep Your Social Life Exciting” pages. Though, as I said to a friend over martinis last weekend, I think I’ve set my current life trajectory at “Career and Work” so who knows if I’ll ever manage to find someone willing to deal with my crap long enough to even consider a more permanent relationship.
He was, for the record, quite kind about my life imbalance. “What you’re doing isn’t crap,” he said, grinning, “and this person you’re looking for isn’t too far away.”
He’s sort of required to say that. We’ve known each other for nearly ten years, it would be a little horrid to say “yea, you are kind of screwed” considering how well we know one another. Or perhaps it would just be truthful, who knows.
My new planner will get here in about a week. *glee*