Wind My Spring

I did finish Strange & Norrell (meh. skip it. boring meandering inconsistent plot and terrible characterization) and wound up starting and finishing Norwegian Wood (Murakami) on SHU's recommendation. It was so sad but beautiful. I loved it and keep thinking about parts of it. The protagonist is going through some inner turmoil but is trying to live his life and metaphorically talks about how most mornings he gets up and winds his spring so that he can get through everything he has to do until the day is done and he can sleep. On Sundays he gets a break and doesn't wind the spring.

I realized as I sat in the living room yesterday afternoon, sipping wine and reading those words that I didn't wind my spring. Read those words again: sat, afternoon, wine, reading. I wasn't doing chores, or being present with my family (they were all upstairs playing legos). I wasn't fitting in another workout or decluttering or any number of things that probably needed to get done. I just...sat. And read.

Most mornings, even especially weekends, I spend a few minutes psyching myself up for the day ahead. I think through the sequence of events I need to get through and the items on the list I have to check off. I also remind myself of all the things I shouldn't be doing: no wine, no snacks, no phone in the evenings... It takes many turns of the spring to make sure I'll keep moving all day.

Maybe because it was the third day of a loooonnnggg weekend spent in the house with whiny kids (more on that in another post) and I was limp with relief that MIL had just left. I dunno. I just needed to not be doing anything purposeful for an hour or two.

Then I got up and did laundry and made dinner and lunches and went to bed on time and woke up early this morning to go to the gym, then PT, then work and...yeah. Spring-winding time is back.