One of Those Days

I'm having one of those days. It's hard to make myself do anything. Even the simplest of tasks seem beyond me. Laundry - impossible! Paying bills - no way! Pulling up the bed covers - where would I even begin? And so of course I'm not about even to consider something like tackling the first set of papers from my Intro to Ethics class, which were turned in yesterday. Or writing a page on my new chapter book. I'm trapped in the LaBrea Tar Pits of my own lethargy, depression, and despair.

Enter my fetish for counting things. Okay, I cannot possibly face making my whole entire bed. So I tell myself just to do five motions. Motion number one, pull up the covers on this side. Motion number two, pull them up a little bit more. Motion number three, walk around to the other side of the bed. Motion number four, try to pull up the covers on that side with a forceful enough yank that a further motion won't be required. Motion number five, straighten the pillows. Bed: done!

I just finished going through my laundry basket, by folding just five things, and then another five, and then another five. The laundry is still all over my (nicely made) bed, in piles, but at least it is folded. After I finish writing this blog post, I will carry five piles of folded laundry to where they go. I think I have seven piles total, so MAYBE I'll then have enough momentum to do the other two piles. If not, I'll leave them for later. And then I'll count out the first five things I have to do to make myself lunch: find a can of tuna, open the can. I know those are the first two.

It's one of those days. But at least now my bed is made and my laundry is folded, and I have the beginning of a plan for lunch. It's more than I had an hour ago, thanks to counting.