This morning, I played chauffeur for Duffy and her friend. I drove half an hour to pick “said” friend up, drive them to purchase movie tickets, wander over to Starbucks, and eventually head back to the movie theater an hour later.
As I sat at Starbucks in my jeans and hoodie, I realized something–I’ve been missing some of life’s fuel; the fuel I gain when I pause and observe things from an outsider’s perspective.
It’s the recharge of walking to the lake with hot tea in the morning and going to the library without a time restraint.
In general, I take life on at a slow pace. This morning, I spent 5 minutes ironing the sleeves of my button-up–the same amount of time it’d take my mother to iron the entire shirt plus a pair of jeans.
She is very efficient.
Efficiency isn’t my strength; I take my time to thoroughly accomplish a task. I don’t think it is a bad thing, but I do make an effort to speed things up, so people aren’t waiting on me.
On the contrary, I see myself as someone who easily keeps up-to-date and familiar with current events, trends, etc. I’m just never in a rush–I drive the speed limit even if I’m late to an event.
There is no sense of time in my body. Duffy keeps the time on our mutual schedules like youth events and drop-off/pick-up times. Sometimes I’m 10 minutes late to pick her up from piano lessons, but she’s not as stringent about pick-up as she is about drop-off. Duffy HATES to be late.
All this to say, I want a “daze day” in my week. I think my uber-efficient mother needs the same.