A Canadian gal living in Britain with 3 men and a dog. Wine helps.

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Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Shorter Days = Less Motivation

I try really hard not to be late for things, especially work. I’m lucky to have the kind of job where I have some flexibility and no one questions me if I’m ten minutes late. It’s just accepted that I will make it up at the end of the day or take it off my flexi-time. No big deal. Besides I’m usually in at 8:00 am, well before anyone else anyway.
All my life I had the misfortune of being habitually late. I wonder if this is something that I learned, although I don’t know from whom, my mom and dad are never late for appointments and tried to teach us all the importance of being on time. My mother said I was a late delivery, stubborn in my quest to stay snuggled inside of her. (I don’t think I can be blamed though; it was January and seriously, what time of year is that to be born?) It was only after she slipped on the ice on one of her long walks to try and coax me out that I was actually jarred into moving. During my latter school days Mom had the patience of a saint in her quest to get me out of bed. When it came to getting a lift from my dad, if I wasn’t ready when he was I could often be found running out the door as he was pulling out of the drive. If I was lucky, he would stop; I wasn’t always lucky. (I thought I’d always be mad at him for those times yet having teenagers in the house has given me a slightly different perspective and I’ve become much ‘harder’ than I ever thought I could be – it’s necessary at times, trust me.)

I married a man who is never late for anything. He is also a man who has approximately the same level of patience as my dad when it comes to being ready to leave on time (just ask my sister) and from an early stage in our relationship I managed to adapt; (Andy has also lightened up a bit over the last few years and isn’t as impatient – I guess we are good for each other after all :) I pride myself on the fact that these days I am usually always on time for appointments. I’m even prouder of the fact that when my husband and I agree on a time of departure I am ready to roll when he is. I’m not usually ready before, but I can guarantee you if we planned to leave the house at 7:00 pm I will be walking out the door at 7:00 pm. I surprise myself on days when I’m ready ten minutes early. When it comes to appointments though, I will often walk in no more than five minutes beforehand. I won’t ever change in this aspect because I abhor waiting rooms.

These days I find myself waking up about an hour before my alarm goes off. I usually have an argument with myself on whether or not I should get up to exercise (I would love to be that person), take Molly for a walk or even possibly catch up on a bit of laundry etc. I always lose this argument and although I’m almost wide awake I stay there till I fall back asleep and am rudely awakened just after 7 am feeling annoyed at myself for not getting up earlier. I really wish I could get up in time to do more than wash my face, fix my hair and put on a minimal amount of makeup prior to going. And no, I don’t shower most mornings as I have my bath or shower before bed each night. It’s rare when I have an extra few minutes to actually style my hair and make lunch (if it hasn’t been done the night before). Even when I do wake up with time to spare I usually waste it trying to figure out what to wear.

Today I had set my alarm for 6:40 and when it went off I didn’t even hit snooze. I was up early enough to take Molly for a romp on the field with her ball; the reason behind my earlier rise was that Molly’s granddad couldn’t walk her at midday so she needed a walk before work. It’s amazing how much better I feel throughout the day when I actually achieve what I plan. Since the time change nearly two weeks ago I’ve not been able to get to the gym as much or take Molly out after dark (its fireworks central around here at the moment) which has put the brakes on my jogging in the evening. So last night I hopped on my stationary bike for almost an hour and as always, a good sweat goes a long way in making me feel much brighter and better about, well everything.


Fern Wimpley said...

I've been thinking about your girl this week! I figured there would be loads of fireworks! Love you, sister xo

Laraf123 said...

Fireworks and dogs don't mix. (Actually, I don't think fireworks and people mix well--at least not in my neighborhood.) Hope you and Molly get to take a quiet evening walk soon!