Packing
Packing is always an existential dilemma for me. What if I bring the wrong thing? What if I'm too hot? Too cold? What if my shorts are too short and make everyone notice all my cellulite? What if my shorts are too long and I look uncool? What if we end up going somewhere unexpected and I don't have the right thing to wear and then I feel out of place? What if what I'm wearing makes me feel awkward and then my confidence suffers and then I start doing weird things and feeling like a loser?
Meanwhile Michael throws three pairs of shorts, a bunch of t-shirts, and his swimsuit in a bag and calls it a day.
I tried to pack early tonight but couldn't finish because there's one more load of laundry to do. We're leaving for a week at Michael's parents' cabin in upstate New York on Saturday, and as always happens before vacations, no matter how ahead of the game I think I am, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with everything that needs to be done before we leave. Two projects to finish for a client. End-of-the-month invoicing. Cleaning the house so my friend who's staying here while we're gone doesn't have to stay in filth. Put Olive & Clyde on vacation mode, set up vacation email messages for all my email addresses, pack, water all the plants inside and outside, pick up my O&C order from the printer, go to my waxing appointment, have lunch with my brother, take Clyde to get groomed, fill up the gas tank in my car, clean out my car, get a copy of our apartment key made for Michael's sister so we can give it to her when we see her in NY, deposit an O&C check I've left sitting on the dining room table for a month. And I have about 24 hours to do all this. Thank god I don't have a kid to get packed up, too.
It wouldn't matter if I had done all this stuff last week—somehow I'd find things to stress myself out over just because there's a deadline.
Whenever I get this "there's too much to do" feeling, I remember something an old boss told me. I may have written about it before—it's one of those things that comes up again and again. He was probably the best boss I've had, not because he was really great at his job or knew a lot or worked really hard. In fact, kind of the opposite. Ha. No, he was the best boss because he believed in me, trusted me, had my back, and set me up to succeed. Anyway, I was sitting at my computer stressing out about something, and he walked over, bouncing a tennis ball like he often did—something that drove everyone crazy—and he saw me freaking out.
"Don't worry about it. Just go home."
"But..." I started listing the things I needed to get done.
"Is it all going to be there tomorrow?" he asked.
"I mean, yeah, if I don't do it today."
"And will the world end?"
"...no."
"This stuff isn't important. It'll get done. Go home."
He was my boss telling me my work wasn't important. This was typical for him, and at the time I just laughed and rolled my eyes. "Typical Mark." He could only say that to me because he knew I always did my work and then some.
But I went home. And he was right, it got done and everything was fine and the world didn't end. It was an important lesson—most things aren't the end of the world.
The world won't end if my shorts are too short or too long. In fact, I probably won't even remember anything about my shorts a week later. And if I don't get any of the things on my list done, life will still go on, we'll still go on our trip, and we'll still have a good time. My plants just might die.
So I'll get new plants.
Meanwhile Michael throws three pairs of shorts, a bunch of t-shirts, and his swimsuit in a bag and calls it a day.
I tried to pack early tonight but couldn't finish because there's one more load of laundry to do. We're leaving for a week at Michael's parents' cabin in upstate New York on Saturday, and as always happens before vacations, no matter how ahead of the game I think I am, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with everything that needs to be done before we leave. Two projects to finish for a client. End-of-the-month invoicing. Cleaning the house so my friend who's staying here while we're gone doesn't have to stay in filth. Put Olive & Clyde on vacation mode, set up vacation email messages for all my email addresses, pack, water all the plants inside and outside, pick up my O&C order from the printer, go to my waxing appointment, have lunch with my brother, take Clyde to get groomed, fill up the gas tank in my car, clean out my car, get a copy of our apartment key made for Michael's sister so we can give it to her when we see her in NY, deposit an O&C check I've left sitting on the dining room table for a month. And I have about 24 hours to do all this. Thank god I don't have a kid to get packed up, too.
It wouldn't matter if I had done all this stuff last week—somehow I'd find things to stress myself out over just because there's a deadline.
Whenever I get this "there's too much to do" feeling, I remember something an old boss told me. I may have written about it before—it's one of those things that comes up again and again. He was probably the best boss I've had, not because he was really great at his job or knew a lot or worked really hard. In fact, kind of the opposite. Ha. No, he was the best boss because he believed in me, trusted me, had my back, and set me up to succeed. Anyway, I was sitting at my computer stressing out about something, and he walked over, bouncing a tennis ball like he often did—something that drove everyone crazy—and he saw me freaking out.
"Don't worry about it. Just go home."
"But..." I started listing the things I needed to get done.
"Is it all going to be there tomorrow?" he asked.
"I mean, yeah, if I don't do it today."
"And will the world end?"
"...no."
"This stuff isn't important. It'll get done. Go home."
He was my boss telling me my work wasn't important. This was typical for him, and at the time I just laughed and rolled my eyes. "Typical Mark." He could only say that to me because he knew I always did my work and then some.
But I went home. And he was right, it got done and everything was fine and the world didn't end. It was an important lesson—most things aren't the end of the world.
The world won't end if my shorts are too short or too long. In fact, I probably won't even remember anything about my shorts a week later. And if I don't get any of the things on my list done, life will still go on, we'll still go on our trip, and we'll still have a good time. My plants just might die.
So I'll get new plants.