Always having just one more thing to do
I always seem to have a thing or more to do.
That is, before I can call it quits or wrap up any given day, there’s generally another something or other that needs attention.
Better Half is used to this when he calls me at work mid-afternoon and makes the anticipated inquiry.
“What time are you outta’ there?” he’ll ask.
It’s pointless to look at the clock and offer an ETD.
I don’t really have a Fred Flintstone kind of job where a whistle blows and that’s it. Off I surf to the tip of the dinosaur tail, on my way to more fun and festivities in Bedrock.
I wish I could be more original with my responses, but I’m afraid that I’m Debbie Downer.
“I don’t know, sweetums,” I answer honestly. “I’m almost done,” I attempt to sound promising, “but I’ve got a thing or two more to do yet.”
Honestly, I’m done when I’m done, barring any interruptions or distractions, including filling the candy dishes on my desk (very important work) or watering a plant (very important work) or finishing a conversation (very important work) or becoming a desk contortionist as I attempt to retrieve a pen that’s rolled off to an awkward spot underneath it (also very important work.)
The harder that pen is to reach, the more determined I am to grab it. It can be a challenge that becomes very personal. A pen that belongs in my hand, on my desk or in my purse, after all, will find no sanctuary elsewhere. Not on my watch.
Sometimes the one more thing to do could be an errand I need to tackle on the way home to make life more “convenient,” which can turn into something truly time-consuming and not so convenient, because it involves running into people I’m not expecting to see but glad to cross paths with just the same, mind you.
“Gab-fests,” however, can really throw a monkey wrench into plans to keep to a schedule and be productive.
Once I’m actually home, there’s little respite and relief from that daily syndrome of having just one more thing to do.
Thursday was no exception.
Better Half was mowing, which means I need to sweep sidewalks.
Then there’s a patch of the back yard that needs raked.
And that makes me see where there’s a weed or two that needs pulled or flowers that could stand a little drink of water.
And a couple of horses are standing at the fence, giving me a look my husband no longer does — are we having dinner today?
Heading indoors brings more reminders of one more thing to do, including that it’s Garbage Day Eve, time to wage war with the refrigerator holding hostage things that need to go bye-bye.
If I ever run out of having one more thing to do, I’ll have lots of free time for new experiences, I’m sure.
Maybe I’ll even learn how to surf down a dinosaur tail.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)