First Things First

I usually try to make laundry the first task of the day. That way, even if I can’t manage to motivate myself to tackle anything else on my to-do list, at least I’ve washed the clothes.

Then, the other day, I wound up in the laundry room in the afternoon and it made me think…

I’ve never been a morning person. The afternoon always was my time—the best time—especially when I was a kid. Back then, morning meant waking up early for school (and nothing good could ever come of that). Afternoon was a time of release—full of promise and freedom. In the afternoon my time was my own, and I could choose whether I went outdoors to play or plopped myself in front of the TV.

When did doing tasks in the morning trick me into feeling virtuous? When did the arrival of afternoon bring reproach, reminding me of all the tasks I have yet to complete before the day ends? When did I begin to see things from the opposite side?

Sometimes I need to remind myself that I can choose what I do in the morning and in the afternoon. This afternoon, I choose to do laundry.

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