I want all these meals to be healthy and delicious.
I want this house to be *reasonably* clean.
I want my tomato plants to make tomatoes the way everyone else's tomato plants actually make tomatoes.
I want this manuscript to be less crappy, and more awesome...
But the way I do things seems terribly inefficient. Because none of those things gets done in any kind of reasonable amount of time. This is the age of the Smartphone and the Smartcar and the self cleaning oven, and the mimeograph. I live in a house with buttons on the wall that can make it instantly warmer or cooler, should I feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. I have a box on my counter top that Makes Food Hot in under 90 seconds, which I only use to make popcorn and warm my coffee. No longer do I live under the scourge of Tepid Coffee Because I Didn't Drink It Fast Enough. The machine I'm using to write this can give me any information available in some form of print from anywhere in the world - and time. My car has a whole compliment of ways to tell me that something is wrong with it before it breaks down.
I feel like things should be easier. At least some things. More should be possible in a day.
And yet, there always seems to be a bigger list of things Left to Do than things Accomplished at the end of the day.
Somehow, I have the delusion that if I had some magical system of organization, everything would be so much easier, and the things I want to get done would fall into place around me.
There's just one problem - writing takes as long as it takes. There's no rushing. There're no shortcuts. The scene or chapter or book is done when it's done. And it doesn't care if I have plants to water, or laundry to fold, or a car to vacuum. So those things come after. (Or perhaps everyone else's secret is to just pay someone to do all those other things for them. )
But then, every once in a while, there's a little payoff for simply not having anything like enough time to get everything done everyday. Like, when I didn't weed my front yard garden as thoroughly as I'd like. I started to let some things grow, and this is what happened -
I didn't plant these, and I don't know what they are, exactly, but they're almost six feet tall now, and covered in the most beautiful little flowers. I looks like chamomile, maybe. Whatever they are, I'm glad I didn't pull them up when they were just little unrecognizable sprouts. because I never would have seen them bloom.
So, while things like the laundry and the dirty vegetable crisper and the oil light on the car will never, ever get better by just letting them sit a little longer, there are things that get better with time and patience and maybe letting go a little bit.