Inspired by a New York Times Smarter Living column last January, and knowing I had a multitude of frogs to consume in 2019 (banking, vehicles, books, computer accounts, & etc & etc), I bought myself a set of Best Self journals. Once in hand, of course, I had to figure out just what I wanted to do so I could plan my time to eat all those frogs… I mean, deliver all those projects.
Having begun the first of the four 13-week journals in February 2019, I now find myself finally approaching the top of the wheel. I’m in January, the last month of my planning-journal year. It’s odd because, of course, the holidays have already danced out the door and everyone else is earnest about their new year plans and resolutions… but here I am, still marking out another three weeks by completing the tag end of 2019 chores and projects.
I don’t actually feel awful about this. These 2019 tasks were planned to run past the confetti-gun of new year’s eve. A garage empty enough for the car to park in, for instance, was a huge 3rd quarter goal… The space has been occupied by ladders and empty Xmas-light boxes since November. But that will close out this weekend, when (weather permitting) the lights come down and the ladders go off-duty, and — by the end of the planning-journal year — the car will be safe out of the snow.
My parents’ vast collection of books, DVDs and CDs were catalogued over the summer, but time ran away in the fall, when I planned to upload them to Mom’s Amazon selling-site. I had more important places to put my energy then… But that’s okay, because I will sit by the James Bond fireplace, with feline supervision, and upload as many titles a night as I can concentrate on, knowing there are still January evenings available to finish out this 2019 task.
That medieval studies degree I completed a millennium or so ago taught me that the new year used to begin on March 25th instead of December 25th. (This is rather complicated by the overlaps of assorted papal calendars.) I’m not going to wait for the Vernal Equinox, but I rather like the idea of starting my personal calendar on February 1. The hullaballoo of everyone else’s new year has died down, spring is not yet in sight. If I were in England, I would look for snowdrops to signal the turn of the year and its seasons. Instead, I’ll close this quarter’s bright yellow journal on January 31, and begin my own new year in sky blue.
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