My daily reminders

The other day I made myself a list called "Things that are good for me." That morning I stood at the kitchen sink, irritated by my own laziness in not washing my French press and surrounding dishes the night before, and snoozing past my alarm in several five-minute increments. It's in those moments when I think of Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything when he asks his sister, "How hard is it to decide to be in a good mood and then be in a good mood once in awhile?" (She replies, sarcastically, "Gee, it's easy.") Seriously, though. Why don't I just decide to do the dishes before going to bed? Why not just get up with my alarm the first time it rings and head to the gym?

So this list I made was basically a blueprint for a good day and it is now taped into my little journal. It's stupidly simple. There's nothing like "Change a child's life" or "Determine how your vocation can fulfill your innermost needs". Woof. That's too deep for a daily list. In fact, much of my list has to do with clutter, food and air.

I don't follow it every day, but I look at it as much, if only to remind myself of how many ways I can choose to create a better outlook over the course of my waking hours - even on gray, rainy Spokane days.

For example:

Go to the gym. (Even if it's dark out. Even if it's cold.)

Eat a nice breakfast and don't watch TV while doing so.

Compose a daily to-do list at work.

Bullet points aren't quite as good as check-boxes.

Clear your desk at the end of the day and place undone things on tomorrow's to-do list.

(Don't eat lunch at your desk, either; get fresh air.)

Do the dishes before bed and make sure there's something to pack for tomorrow's lunch.

Floss.

Take pictures whenever the mood strikes.

Taken from the parking lot of JoAnn Fabrics.

Clean house throughout the week; enjoy it on the weekend.

 

Drink water.

Put flowers on the table.

Enjoy them with your breakfast.

Don't drive in a hurry.

Call your friends.

Take notes. 

Rainy Thursday windshield view

I told you it was simple. But it works for me. Having documentation of the things that I will absolutely not regret doing is comforting.


Perhaps I'll add a sub-head to my list: "You've got it easy, kid."