Yesterday I wrote about that delicious feeling of accomplishment provided by mowing the meadow, the same feeling I get when I check a big project off my to-do list. I'm reminded, though, that the activities I value the most are never really done. I'll never be done reading as long as books keep being published and I'll never be done teaching as long as ignorance remains a renewable resource, and when it comes to enjoying my family, there's really no imaginable end-point.
The ubiquity of unfinished business became clear to me earlier this week. I was trying to think of a way to commemorate the fact that I've survived two years since my cancer diagnosis, and I asked my husband what I ought to do.
"Keep surviving," he said.
Now there's a plan!
Another plan is to write poetry celebrating unfinished business:
Write a line (insert paren-
theses); delete, revise,
replace, rewrite
a line (delete paren-
theses); add comma,--
no! a dash (insert paren-
theses); replace a verb,
a noun, (delete paren-
theses); full stop? (insert
parentheses).
Now it's your turn: if you can't put a fork in it and call it done, then turn it into poetry.
1 comment:
The coal mine, the cow byre, the field of fire in Afghanistan, could become hostile work environments. Protect yourself, your fellow employees, your employer; take the S.H.A.T. today.
D.
(Sexual Harassment Awareness Training)
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