Out of the Weeds, Into the Clouds

See Those Buds 

Have you ever had one of those days where your work production suffered because all you could think about is what you wanted or needed to do when you got home? And once home, you couldn't get much of any of those things done because your mind wandered back to what you didn't accomplish at work and how that now will impact the next working day?

Well, welcome to my week. Every day. Every. Single. Day. last week I struggled to get out of the apartment in a timely manner that would guarantee an on-time work arrival; so mired in listing, planning, studying, arranging the work and home agendas. There was a work list. There was a home list.

Each carefully crafted to achieve maximum efficiency and success.

Somewhere in the mix, the lists conspired to become a muddled mess of: STUFF TO GET DONE which ultimately led to my scrambling, muddling, meandering, tick-tocking instead of humming right along.

Ouch.  It was a long, topsy-turvy kind of week.

But, it is a new Monday. A new week. A new . . . attitude, if you will. Oh, I still have lists as there are still goals to achieve, tasks to clear. But something will change. I haven't quite mustered out what shape this change will take, how IT will manifest. But I have every confidence this week will be better.

Yo, you buying any of that?

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Hit. Miss.

Our schedules are in sync lately. We keep running into each other during the morning commute. I was hoping that her reason for leaving earlier these days meant she wanted time before checking into the office, to sit and have a sip in the park across the street from our respective work places. But I haven't seen her there. 

Yet. 

I know she sees me, our eyes meet, hers sparkle. I hope mine do the same. Yet, she gives nothing more away. I'm reluctant to do much more than smile, nod. It is the bus and even the friendliest of conversations are awkward on the bus. Especially our bus. Too many school children free-ranging their way to school. At least, hopefully, school is the eventual destination. 

Two weeks. I get off two stops ahead so I could get in extra steps, go get coffee and then to the park to sit, sip, and think. I know she can see me from her office, I don't know that she cares, I think she does, I hope she does. I don't know why I'm not more forward. Yes, I do.  

Hurt. Fear. Wrong. 

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And thus ends the snippets of a re-curring dream, the snippets culled together to form a narrative. Is it just a story? Or more? 

Welcome to Monday. 

Random questions: How many times do you have to unsubscribe before it "takes"? How many times do you give it before complaining?   How long do you give websites you are not so familiar with to load before saying, "F" it and move the frack on, several seconds, one minute, more . . .? 

#MicroBlogMonday