If Monday’s post was about the difference between being and doing, today’s post is about what happens when I forget that entirely and try to outrun life with my to-do list.

Spoiler: it doesn’t work.
But it does make for a very vivid dream.

I stayed up late watching It’s a Sin—the show about a group of boys in London during the AIDS crisis in the 80s. Beautiful. Devastating. Haunting.

At midnight, the panic crept in:
If I don’t go to bed now, I’ll be useless tomorrow.
I have a lot to do.
Why do I do this to myself?

Cue the anxiety spiral. Cue the not-sleeping.
At 5:30am I finally fed the dogs and laid down, just as Kelly was getting up.

“I’m wasting the day,” I thought. “I’m wasting time.”

And then I slept for two hours.
Glorious, deep, redemptive sleep.
And a dream that basically called me out.

I’m on a family trip—my dad, my kid, a black cat.
I decide to be efficient and stop for an oil change.
We drive through a car wash.
Everyone gets out.
My dad goes for a run.
The dogs and cat go rogue.
People scatter.
Chaos reigns.

And I’m sitting in a concrete lot thinking:
This is not efficient.
This is a disaster.
Where’s the cat? Did they even change the oil?
Oh—and they didn’t. Because I had the keys.

The goal had been to check off the to-do list.
But the more I tried to check things off, the more things came undone.

Whack-a-mole.
Only it’s my life.

To a literal shit show.
The plumbers arrived to begin a 5-day job of replacing every pipe under our house.
Jackhammering. Barking dogs. A smelly basement.
We’ll be out of town all next week. The dogs will be at daycare.
Would it have been more gentle to wait a week?
Yes. Obviously.
Did I wait?
No. I scheduled it for the first available slot because:
“Let’s get it done!”

But is this what life has turned into?
A relentless series of days to get through?

Who lies on their deathbed and says,

“Wow, I really got a lot done.”
Life well lived.

I packed my laptop and ran from the jackhammers.
Tried to write outside. Then the plumbers loaded concrete into the truck.
I ran to the third floor. Barking. Jackhammers.
Kelly shouting: “We have 5 minutes of water left! Hurry up and poop!”

This is not it.
This is not how I want to be.

So I shook my head, packed up again, and left.
I walked to the coffee shop.

On the way, I slowed down.
I noticed a brilliant flower. I smelled it.
It was a Rose of Sharon—light purple, radiant.
It felt like a treasure. Like a reminder.

At the coffee shop, I received the most beautiful cup of coffee.
I didn’t just taste it. I saw it.

On the table: an article about 10 remarkable museums in Pittsburgh.
What?! A tattoo museum in our neighborhood—and it’s free.
Yes, please.

I sat. I sipped. I noticed a mom playing with her kids.
I watched, not in a creepy way, but a “this is life” kind of way.

And then the barista walked by wearing a Naruto shirt and TomboyX boxers—just like me.

I complimented the shirt. Their face lit up.
(I decided not to mention the boxers. That’s weird, right?)

It’s still Monday.
The house is still a mess.
The water is still off.
The dogs are still confused.

But I’m here.
Not just getting through it.
Living it.

And that’s the shift.

From “how fast can I get this done?”
To:

“What do I want to experience this week?”
“What would feel kind today?”
“What might delight me?”

P.S.
If you missed Monday’s post on dopamine, serotonin, and nachos vs. salad—you can read it [here].
(← insert your Monday link)

And if you’re in your own jackhammer Monday today, I see you. You’re not alone.

(Not for checking off. For checking in.)

Appetizers

• Lie down on the floor. Breathe like no one’s watching.

• Rub your feet on something soft. That counts.

• Sip water. Slowly. Let it matter.

Nourishment

• Journal one sentence that starts with: “This is a lot…”

• Ask someone for a favor (even a small one). Receive it.

• Make food you’d give to someone recovering.

Sweetness

• Scroll on purpose to find one queer joy post and smile at it.

• Doodle in the margins. Color outside the lines.

• Wrap yourself in a blanket like a burrito of resilience.

Digestif

• Tell someone, “It’s a lot, but I’m doing what I can.”

• Say: “Today, I was human.”

• Let that be enough.