Dropping the ball

A welcome addition to my commute, daylight has started featuring on my way to and from work. Edmonton has phenomenal skies: in the summer, with no cloud to serve as milestone, the sky stretches endlessly. When clouds do appear, they hang low, with clear, bounded shapes: Simpsons clouds, really. No matter the season, dawns and dusks put on quite a show, if only we’d stop and look at it. So this morning, I’m sitting in my car trying to glimpse the yellowing horizon in-between the commuting cars, and it hits me: it’s the third week in January, and I’ve already dropped the ball on writing a post for today.

After a week replete with sick kid and sick self, general January business and busy-ness, last night I decided that I did not have it in me to turn my draft post into an actual thing that will go on the internet. I found it too personal, but not in that “maybe people will relate to what I’m going through” kind of a way. Instead, it was of the “look-at-me,” navel-gazing, non-sequitur genre, and I’d like to avoid those if at all possible. However, I just could not come up with a decent replacement, and I opted instead to veg out on the couch and catch up on House of Cards (especially given the second season is coming soon). Did you hear the thunk? Ball totally dropped.

My wonderful friend and former office mate Sue declared on Facebook that one of her 2014 resolutions is to say “no” every once in a while. I made no such resolutions, but I think we could all do with saying “no” more often, especially to non-essential stuff, and even more especially, when saying “yes” would deplete already-precarious resources, thus skewing our delicate dance of keeping afloat at this time of year. Jeez, dropping balls *and* mixing metaphors. I better stop.

So, in the interest of sanity, and with a plea that we all just take a break when we need it, I am just proposing we drop the ball sometimes this year. I think we’ll all survive.