I didn’t do a lot of things today.
I didn’t read about or listen to anything anyone said about Season 2 Episode 6 of The Affair even though I really wanted to.
I didn’t spend any time looking for a replacement for my original George Foreman. Even though I really wanted to.
I didn’t clean the catastrophically confused kitchen drawer or look through my collection of not-quite-right lipsticks.
I didn’t start a new campaign of doing a hundred crunches every hour on the hour so I’ll look all crunchified by the time I turn 90.
I didn’t blog or surf or tweet or distract myself in any significant way from the list of priority deadlines that couldn’t have moved slower if I had been working backwards.
I didn’t stop working on the most annoying document ever created by me even though I really really really wanted to work on anything else in the world.
I didn’t berate myself for hating Mondays or act surprised when Monday felt just as icky as my Mondays generally do.
I didn’t chastise myself for being grumpy, especially after I heard my baby, Andy Cohen, admit that sometimes he’s grumpy.
I didn’t do a lot of the things today that would have made me feel more stressed out by the end of the day. And now I’m glad because I don’t feel worse and I might even be feeling a little better.
And I got work done even though it kept feeling like I wasn’t getting work done.
Sometimes it’s not so much what you do, but what you don’t do.
At least for me.