Bloated Fingers

Quickly moving. Thoughtlessly? Or full of thought? My mind empties and pours out. Work that must be released. But thoughts in my head that I did not put there. The exercise of writing. Quick, intense, aerobic movement of my hands. Tired upon completion. In shape, fit, healthy mind that has been worked.

As life has it, going, going on. No time to stop and care for my hands. Other things call. The bloat, puff up, grow fat. Aching, unhealthy mind. Full of ideas pleading to get out. STOP! Pause it all! As the world rushes in fast forward around me, I must exercise. A writing exercise.

How Can I Do THAT?!

It is much too much.  Absolutely unreasonable.  I can’t do it all.  Be perfectly beautiful, dressed a certain way.  Exercise daily.  Eating all of this and none of that.  House sparkly clean.  Just vacuumed.  And mopped.  All the laundry clean and ironed.  A gormet dinner, healthy and cheap on the budget, simmering in the oven and on the stove.  One everyone likes.  The house stocked with random, healthy, snacks.  Ones that everyone likes.  Even the ones that my family does not eat, in case of visitors.  New clothes hanging in the closet.  Designer.  New car.  Attention grabber.  Just run through the carwash.  Don’t forget to read the Bible.  Check that off the list.  The account balanced.  Under budget.  Setting money aside for savings.  And college.  And a rainy day.  Walk the dog.  Feed the cat.  Clean out the fishbowl.  Lunch with friends.  Social calls.  Texting.  Playdate with a new and with an old.  Keep the friendships growing and developing.  Read a book, remember what it says.  I am quite sure I am forgetting something.

Wake up.  Do it all again.

How can I do all of that? Oh, I can’t.  Deep breath in then out.  Jesus, What do you have planned for me today?