The hurrier I go
The behinder I get
My mom had this cross-stitched onto one of those corkboard/chalkboard message holder things in her kitchen when I was growing up. One of "Mom's Mantra" which planted itself in my subconscious. It stirred up randomly the other morning when I realized that while I'd like to use this as an excuse for myself, I can't. I hate hurrying, running around like a nut-job, as if it helps a situation. However I know many of that type, who spin their wheels in the thick, muddy slurry that is their work, their duties and their commitments with the wishful thinking that it will get them to their goals. By days end they are physically and mentally spent, their tasks not much farther along then when they started.
Call it lack of dedication or pride, but I choose to consciously leave my work at work. Yes, I gripe about it, pull a little hair out from time to time because of it, but I refuse to sit and analyze it. Everytime I do my mind is driving that 40 minutes back to work, away from a tasty beer, a cozy sofa and mowing the lawn (maybe that last one isn't so bad to drive away from).
I prefer the Army soldiers' saying, "Hurry up and wait".
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