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But I have a theory for repetitive tasks that I like to keep in mind: when I'm annoyed at chores, that's probably when I need them the most. It's not a silly cliche, I promise. I just noticed that whenever I'm avoiding them, it's because I've been putting a lot of effort into work-related stuff, and catching up with deadlines for projects, so stopping to take care of the house, or cook, or do laundry doesn't "feel like" a priority.
It's been almost a year that we moved to the new house, and I have ignored the mold on the windows for exactly that same amount of time. Would it make any sense to do it in the busiest month of my year so far? Of course not. But for some reason, I did exactly that, and decided to start tackling them. You gotta be a little crazy sometimes, right?
I started by opening each window as wide as I could, and letting in the chill breeze. The sun was shining on my skin while I was overlooking the overgrown grass, filled with the largest amount of dandelions per square feet that I've ever witnessed in my life.
Yet nothing felt more satisfying than seeing the black funghi powder disappear from the white frames as I scrubbed it with maybe a little bit too much "intention" lol (I mean 👹BRUTAL FORCE👹).
I forgot about my tasks, my to do list, my upcoming events. I heard the robins saying hello, the crows soaring carrying something yellow in their beaks (what are they snacking on?), and heard the rustling of the trees swaying with the wind. Maybe spring cleaning was a priority afterall.
Now what about driving, the thing I started this email yapping about? Same thing! It's a couple hours that I can use to decompress, and process the day - no music, no podcasts, no audiobook, no productivity, nor multi tasking.
It really helps that I'm cruising through farmlands and cute country roads, instead of being stuck in a rush hour's traffic jam. But even the most majestuous weeping willow can become "just a sight" on the way if I'm passing by it every single day.
So I compromise. Some days I'll wait until I'm out of the city's perimeter - once the honking and the concrete jungle is out of the picture, I pick one album to play. That's it, just one. Which makes it really special. "Calico", by Ryan Beaty, if I'm feeling contemplative; "Rumours", by Fleetwood Mac if I'm feeling energetic, "Amir", by Tamino, if I up to some stories.
The sun is setting pretty late these days, so last weekend, after a full day at an art market, I could align "Secret O' Life" by James Taylor with the pink skies amongst the fluffy cirrus clouds, and as he sang "the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time", I couldn't help but let some happy tears stream down my cheeks, thinking of this whole point I'm trying to make here.
We have endless tasks, we complain about time; but even if life is a big blob of unknowns and we're juggling multiple things to balance it out, "try not to try to hard, it's just a lovely ride".
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