I woke up early today planning on getting in a few hours of practice before work and class. Stuff got in the way. I got home from class. Stuff got in the way. Now I’m waiting for a load of laundry to finish it’s spin cycle so I can switch it and I’m blogging. I’m obviously not cello-ing. Stuff is still getting in the way still. But wearing clean clothes is important. So is having a clean bathroom. And eating dinner with the hubby. And snuggling my cat. I do really hate it, though, when cello ends up last on my list of things I need to do.
I react rather irrationally to this — you should all know by now I’m more than a bit neurotic. I start panicking that I’m going to end up never having time to practice again and all this time and energy will be wasted and I will be miserable and unhappy and hate myself for not adjusting my life around playing cello. Yes, I’m aware that’s more than a bit dramatic and bordering on crazy. But knowing that doesn’t stop me from thinking it. Whenever I have one of these days I forget all the hours of practicing I did the day before and the day before that and so on. It’s like I’m convinced I’ve never played cello in my life.
There are still a few more hours before bed, so hopefully I can manage at least a few minutes of practice. And hopefully I will stop being so damn neurotic for a few minutes too.