Anxious for Tomorrow

I sit in my office and wait. I type furiously as I combat those last minute pesky procrastinating email that flow through my inbox and settle in the corner of my eye. It's almost time to leave, to savor my weekend, to take the time for those projects I keep ignoring, to take time to paint my toes, to play at the beach, to take time to make dessert for two.

The clock strikes closing time and I dash home for the weekend, blast through my front door, drop off my lunch box, kick off my Friday sandals, hang up my bag and toss my car keys aside. I have arrived. I am home. What now? I'm here. The moment I have been waiting for has arrived. I have counted down the 40 working hours to this minute in time. Now what? How about a seat? I'll go over my week with my brother, my husband, the girlfriend in Michigan, the mother in Georgia, but I haven't gotten on schedule for my "fun time" yet. It's close, I can tell.

Alright, time for dinner, dishes, reading and bed. Now it's Saturday... I prepared a project and nearly completed it, I started cleaning the house, I answered personal email, I invited friends over for dinner, I gardened and successfully incorporated fresher than thought possible food into my meal. What's lacking?

I somehow missed in all the excitement for the weekend the capability to actually sit down and enjoy it. Here I am on my Saturday night thinking of all the things one must do for tomorrow and though I am smack-dab in the center of my weekend and I should be thoroughly relishing these final moments before school starts on Monday, I just lean forward and yearn for tomorrow. What gives? Did my yesterday person seem to leave a message for me and let me know that I actually enjoy being right here in this moment listening to Michael Brecker play for James Taylor singing Norah Jones? This was it, right? What is this discontentedness in my heart? Do I forget to plan to have a good time? Is that the neuroses that happens to planner-types like me? I forgot to write it down? What a blunder on my part to have forgotten to remember to enjoy myself.

Perhaps I should start making those apple tartlets for dessert tonight. I'm sure the boys would enjoy that immensely. Of course, I'll have to take time to savor the smell of the cinnamon.