Lots of things in life are frustrating. People who don't know enough to take their laundry out of the washing machine and instead, leave it there to fester when all you really want to do is wash your clothes. People who walk really slowly down the middle of a sidewalk. The fact that you can have 500 channels on tv and still find that there's nothing worth watching on any of them.
They're minor, though. Right? I guess that's what makes things frustrating -- when they're small, when they're just enough to be bothersome, but not significant enough to send you right over the edge. You're not enraged. You're frustrated.
Right now I am frustrating myself.
I have something that I really need to do, but can't find the capacity to do it. It's ridiculous, because in terms of the size of the task? It's an anthill. But it is an anthill that has taken on the size and challenge level of Everest.
And yet -- I have all the tools I need at my disposal. I just can't find a way to begin. I can't get out of my own way and I KNOW that the person mucking this whole thing up?
Is me.
Perhaps tomorrow ...
those damn anthills. I have a daily frustration with washing dishes. I've timed the task, all of 10 minutes, but somehow I can not motivate to get them done. There is dried on bananas staring at my from the kitchen, as I sit and procrastinate with FB and MTV.
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