Oops.
Minor slip-up. Minor scheduling delay. Misread the calendar. Or the month. Or the year.
Could be I stepped into some kind of time warp. Launched me forward into the future. That would explain it. Nothing else will. How it’s suddenly March and the task list from December (which is really from September) is still sitting on my desk.
Ooops.
March!?! Wait a minute, say that again. That’s virtually spring. The pollen is already out. And for that matter, it’s practically summer, when the heat kicks in. And if I’m not careful, it’s fall.
It’s practically fall, people!
How did this happen?
The backyard swingset — an under-used, rickety contraption — came down last summer. It was supposed to be replaced by … well … something. Anything! A bricked-in patio. A lovely gurgling fountain. A swinging chair. A beaver den. Anything!
It has instead been replaced by leaves. Lots and lots of leaves. They’re nice leaves, don’t get me wrong. A nice thatch. They crackle when I walk over them. Only, it’s not what was drawn up in the plans … which are also sitting on my desk … under the to-do list.
Oh, the dang list!
Pavers for the walkway in front. There’s that. Haven’t done it. Something about detailing the cars. No idea what that means. Other assorted jobs, most of which are outside and involve things that need to be done soon … so the house won’t fall down.
The list also explicitly says: “Hey Dipsydoodle. Florida gets hot in the summer. Don’t wait too long. YOU WILL DIE!!!”
I don’t know where time goes. There seemed to be plenty of it when I made the list. Most of which I thought I could knock out over Christmas break. Remember Christmas? That was like two months ago!
And where did the time go? I sit and think about it — ruminate over it. STEW over it!
Let’s see … There was the hike at Washington Oaks State Garden with my wife and daughter on Valentine’s Day — a Sunday. We had a picnic, and the dog consumed a shovel full of dirt trying to eat three or four microscopic crumbs of bread.
There were a couple trips we all made to the beach. Some jaunts downtown. A dance-off — I clearly remember a dance-off — and a pretty physical game of Monopoly that resembled football.
Good times, all of them. I remember all of these things. Weekend stuff with the family. Memorable moments. Much more memorable than the feeling you get from crossing an item off a list.
Eh, who needs to cross off things on a list?
So the trees will drop another foot of leaves on the backyard where the patio or the fountain or the beaver den is supposed to go. There’s always summer, when the heat tries to peel the skin off of my body. I can do it all then … unless something more memorable comes up.