So we blew off bike-riding last night.
Usually David and I try to do at least four or five miles around the Navy Base after work on Monday nights ... depending on weather, hormones, traffic, our collective energy levels. But when we got home last night, I looked at him and said, "Let's skip it." I'd had a long ridiculous day at The Totem Pole Company, and I was feeling even more flattened than usual.
(Besides, we'd managed to rack up fifty miles total, over the weekend -- bringing me to 100 for the month of August already -- and I felt I'd earned a night off.)
"Let's just stay home and goof off," I suggested.
I didn't exactly have to twist David's arm ... or any other critical body parts, for that matter. His day had been no less poopy than mine. "Sounds good to me," he said, and we both kicked off the uncomfortable shoes and the fussy office clothes and settled in for an evening of unmitigated blobbery. I cooked dinner for the two of us -- baked potatoes, bean salad, turkey keilbasa -- and when the food was ready we took our plates into the bedroom. We sat around in our underwear watching "Seinfeld" re-runs while we ate.
We felt decadent. And lazy. And vaguely naughty.
And -- of course -- guilty as hell.
"We should be bike riding," David said mournfully.
"I know," I replied, 89.7%
That's right. I'm making lists again.
Whenever I begin to feel rudderless and adrift -- which is how I've been feeling, the past couple of days -- lists are what anchor me again to reality. Now that the wedding and all of its attendant hoopla have blown through our lives, like a big noisy wonderful disruptive circus parade, it's time to start thinking about what comes next: personally, professionally, creatively, financially, maritally, every way that counts. And this seems like a particularly appropriate time to think about things like this, as David and I begin our bright shiny new marriage.
These are a few of the personal goals I came up with last night.
By the time I was finished making my list, I'd filled up four sheets of notebook paper. (I'm only giving you the *highlights* here. You don't really want to hear about reworking my cover letter, finishing our thank-you notes and organizing my shoes, do you?) Seeing it all written down on paper like this is both inspiring ... and vaguely depressing. None of this stuff is as exciting or fun or "journalworthy" as planning for a wedding was. I'm not likely to have many groovy *Web Host Anxiety Dreams* to relate, here on the website. As a matter of fact ... it's all pretty prosaic. There is a little part of me that looks at this list and says "This is the most uninspired list of goals in the history of lists."
(In fact, looking at the list makes me want to invent some edgier, more interesting goals -- beekeeping, in vitro fertilization, starting a garage rock band, running for Congress -- just so I don't lose my audience.)
Fortunately, there is an even bigger/noisier/more sensible part of me that looks at the list and says "Thank god you HAVE goals, Secra." Because without goals -- without stuff to plan for, work towards, sweat over, crow about -- my whole life would be like last night: me sitting around in my underwear, eating turkey kielbasa, watching "Seinfeld" re-runs ... and thinking about all of the stuff I should be doing instead.
And every *FootNotes* entries would be as boring as this one is.