This morning when I rolled out of bed, I noticed that one of my sheets was torn. Right there in the middle of my mattress, there was a hole you could have thrown a basketball through. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed SOMEONE had a really good time last night. Alas, this was not the case. Rather, apparently my sheet had worn thin and couldn’t hold itself together any longer. It’s okay, I thought, I’ve been there plenty of times myself. Anyway, despite the fact that I had other plans for my afternoon, I ended up washing sheets (I have sensitive skin that requires everything I come in contact with be cleaned in “free and clear” detergent) then re-making my bed. Ugh. Sometimes our choices are made for us.

Since I was already doing laundry, I decided to DO LAUNDRY this afternoon. I’m going out-of-town tomorrow, so it worked out. Now I’ll have underwear options for the weekend. (That’s always nice.) While the laundry was going on, I knitted, something I haven’t done in weeks. Just another session or two, and I’ll be done with my very first project–a pot holder! I can’t tell you how good this felt, being productive. I really got on a roll–checked the fluids in my car, home-made my own windshield washer fluid (thanks for the recipe, Mom), even cleaned my white sneakers. My therapist says it takes “a real hooker” to pull off white sneakers!

Insert look of confidence here.

This evening I went to Starbucks to use their internet to order more sensitive-skin items online–six bars of soap, some shaving cream. Ugh. You don’t think about all the things you rub on your body until you have to restock almost all of them. Hopefully this will do it for a while. After finishing my online shopping, I worked on someone else’s blog. (Sometimes I get paid to write.) Now it’s after ten, and I’m working on mine, rushing through it because Dad and I need to go to the gym soon.

Something about being productive. There’s an idea in mysticism and ancient wisdom that we don’t “do” things. Rather, we are “being done.” I wish I were. (That’s a sex joke, Mom.) But seriously, take breathing, for instance. Is it something you decide to do, or does it just happen? And if it just happens, then couldn’t the argument be made that everything just happens? More and more, I think so.

Byron Katie says, “Decisions make themselves.” To me this means that you can fret and worry and plan and put off, but at some point you simply find yourself doing the laundry, sitting down to write, or going to the gym (or not). The ego likes to take credit for everything, of course, so we tell ourselves, Look at what I did or didn’t do today. I’m so great. I’m a real piece of crap. I’m not saying we’re not responsible for our actions, just that all the mental chatter around our actions is unnecessary. For example, I often worry that my irritated skin should be healing or that I should be working on a novel, but I could just as easily worry that I’m not at this very moment taking a breath. Either way, without my planning it, at some point I do–take a breath, feel better, sit down to write (or not). But is it because I worried first? No, I don’t think so. Sometimes our choices are made for us. Better said, sometimes it’s simply time to do whatever it is you’re doing right here, right now.