Okay blogsphere...talk me out of the madness:
It is ARCTIC COLD here in Cambridge. And yet I can't bring myself to turn on the heat because every year I have this strange goal of waiting until November 1st. As if that's a THING for which one gets a metal or something.
It's not. No one--not one single person, including my mother (who has had her heat on for days already) cares if I shiver and freeze until November 1st. And yet I feel like I'd be failing if I turned that little dial from "unspeakably cold" on up to "okay to take your jacket off inside."
And why don't I feel similar anxiety over missing my more important goals? You know, the one about running enough miles on the treadmill that I fit into that certain pair of jeans? Or the one about writing 300 words per day? Clearly, I need a perspective alignment of some sort...like a tune up on a car, where they make sure your tires are all pointing in the same direction...and that the chosen direction is FORWARD, not off to the side.
I'm going down to turn the heat on RIGHT NOW. I'm not ashamed...I'm not ashamed...
Am I the only one with ridiculous non-goal goals like this?