At six in the morning, if I don't keep moving, I'll easily fall back asleep and end up late for work. Oh yes, there will be steps in between: the alarm will go off, every ten minutes, without fail, and I, equally without fail, will sleep through it. Bijou will walk on me, touching velveted paws gently to my arms, my face, in a vain attempt to rouse me, since she knows something is up (or more to the point), something (me) is supposed to be up!
Six at night is nearly the same problem. If I do as my heart tells me, and plunk my bum down firmly on the couch, glass of wine in one hand and remote in the other, my evening is shot. I'll forget to take my evening pills, resulting in uneven sleep; I will drink too much, or too fast, or both; I'll give up on cooking dinner altogether and will pig out on ice cream, and I will not be able to wake up in the morning, and end up late for work.
So the higher brain functions keep blasting me with the same "red alert", be it a.m. or p.m. ...
"Keep moving!"
If I keep moving, I'll do things. If I don't sit down, I can put on a load of laundry. Cook dinner. Boil eggs for tomorrow's lunch. Pay bills. Empty the dishwasher. Get something - anything at all - done.
Because one thing I've learned this past year-and-a-bit, is that it's more fun to do things, than to do nothing.
If I keep ahead of the laundry and the dishwasher, I always have clean dishes to cook dinner in, and I don't spend money I don't have ordering in food, when there's food that I've bought and paid for going bad in the fridge. And I always have underwear, and things to wear I actually enjoy wearing.
If I keep cooking home-made meals, I stand a slightly better chance of controlling my portions, limiting my carbs, and maybe, just maybe, losing some weight. And therefore remaining healthy.
The six o'clock to seven o'clock period is super-critical, at both ends of the day. Tonight, for example, my laundry is now in the dryer, I've eaten dinner, peeled the hard-boiled eggs, soaked the pan the fish was cooked in, and now I'm watching the ballgame with a glass of wine nearby, and it's 7:24 precisely. I can relax now as long as I wish, and I still stand a chance of doing some quilting before having to call it a day. And because I can get some quilting done, I won't have lived a day "for nothing" - I'll have created something, done something beyond cooking and washing and consuming, this day. That will reduce my frustration, help me sleep better.
And tomorrow morning it can start all over again.
I just have to keep moving.
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