Adding "nothing" to my to-do list

My goal this week is to accomplish absolutely nothing, but I'm not sure I can manage it. My inner drive to check items off my to-do list keeps raising its ugly head--and besides, if I achieve the goal of accomplishing nothing, then I've accomplished something and I'll have to start all over again tomorrow. 

I've been puzzling over why this summer break feels much less crowded than last year's summer break, and I think I've figured it out. Last year at this time I was dealing with my father's death, deeply immersed in a hands-on home-improvement project, attending frequent Faculty Council meetings in response to the still-smarting budget pinch, planning a brand-new class, and taking the collection of comedy essays through various stages of the editing process. 

This summer I'm doing none of that. I have no more parents to bury, no new classes to plan for fall (though I'll do some revision at some point), no more rooms to paint or closets to empty, no more essays to edit, and few Faculty Council obligations (unless a new disaster strikes before August, when my term is finally done). The spring has been too wet to permit planting so there's not even any gardening to do, and I'm all caught up on the mowing (until next week). What to do with a wide-open expanse of time?

I do have some summer projects. I need to revise and complete the new manual for department chairs and plan their August workshop, and I'll need to shepherd the Natasha Trethewey essay through the publication process (although I think the final edits have been approved). I'm giving a paper at an academic conference in July, but it's based on my work in the comedy volume so there's no new writing to do; however, I'll need to finish planning that trip, particularly finding lodging for he day we visit The Mount, Edith Wharton's house.

This week, though, I'm aiming for nothing. I'd hoped to accomplish nothing on Monday but couldn't resist finishing the mowing and baking that wonderful summer berry cake I love so much. I'd like to accomplish pretty much nothing today, but I've already been outside to take pix of pretty blooming things and feeling grateful to whoever gave us those gorgeous yellow iris bulbs and to my prior self (for digging up columbines from a roadside ditch and planting them in our front garden years ago) and to the previous owner of the house, whose lovely rhododendrons brighten up that shady sport alongside the driveway every spring. 

Being grateful isn't a lot of work but some days it's a real accomplishment, so I guess I've already blown my opportunity to accomplish nothing today. Darn. I'll have to try again tomorrow.

These fungi growing in the tulip-poplar stump are at least a foot across.