Lost Days

God, grant me strength and energy

to do what I must do, efficiently,

the heart to do it lovingly, and finally,

the creativity and inclination

to do it with imagination.

Entropizing

It’s been years since I had a lost day. Now

the universe is saying, “Girl, take this day off, don’t

even wash your face or do the dishes if you’d rather

not.” I’d rather, though, unless the pixies happen to

drop by. The trick in kicking back is having your

environment in order first, and brush your teeth, at

least. Then you can pour your glass of wine and find

the chick-book you’ve been hoarding to reward

yourself with. Dammit, dammit all to hell! Your

plants are crying out in agonizing thirst. NO CURSING,

PLEASE, ON LOST DAYS; it conveys frustration when you

need uninterrupted relaxation.

How much chaos can you tolerate? Myself, I

wouldn’t dream of dusting, but I am uncomfortable

with reams of paperwork in baskets, bins, and

boxes, mixed with unmatched socks and unpaid

bills and scraps with numbers scrawled upon them

that don’t ring a bell, and balls of rubber bands

and, oh, I hate this, batteries.

You have to grant yourself permission for a lost day

to be truly given up to self-indulgence. If things left

undone are pulling at you, if the sun is gently

shining and you pine for outdoor exercise, then

you’d be wise to wait a day or two; do what you

have to do. You can’t begin a lost day in the middle.

Unless you’re sick, or think you might be. That’s a

strategy that works for me. I have these quirky

medical conditions, such as, I don’t have a spleen,

which means I have impaired immunity and need

to rest a lot and drink some chocolate sauce out of

the bottle if there’s no ice cream. But while I’m

doing that, the chance is high I’ll notice ants

around a microscopic crumb; it won’t be long

before they’ll sense that there’s a feast for hundreds

of them and their cousins, in the sink, and there go

my intentions for the morning; ants won’t be

deterred with verbal warnings.

And, of course, you see, I would have
A.D.D. (attention-deficit disorder); in a sense,

all days are halfway lost, what with the wandering

off the path to look at buttercups or phlox or little

woodland creatures or to take a nap, and then the

yanking myself back. I must take full advantage of a

focused moment when one chances by. Damn!

There it went, and yet another day misspent.

No. For I could count a thousand ways in which

today I made a tiny

difference.

Toothbrushes: VNWallpapers
Green soap: VNWallpapers
Woman drinking wine: VNWallpapers
Rabbit: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service
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