What is it with me and should? Like a dutiful girl, that word haunts my mind more than I realize, and usually when I buck against it, it's only to my own neglect.
I should study my scriptures, but I don't feel like it.
I should be preparing my lesson for YW tomorrow, but I'll do it later.
I should be exercising, but I don't want to sweat.
I should clean my house, but it's boring and I don't want to.
See what I mean? I'd probably be a much happier person if I was reading my scriptures, preparing my lesson, exercising, or feeling comfortable in a sparkling house, and yet? I kick should in the teeth instead and wallow.
Take food. This last week I read Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food and Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I watched on Netflix No Impact Man and Botany of Desire. I know what to eat. I know what to do. I even have this luscious garden out back yielding her bounty. And yet, do you know what I had for breakfast? Triple Chunk Chocolate brownies. From a (very non-local) box (which I recycled at least). That had more than 5 ingredients, none of them healthy, and more than one of them unpronounceable.
Why? Why? Tell me! No, on second thought, don't. Because I know why, and the truth is too painful to bear right now.
Should, should, should! I'll do it all for my children, for just about anyone else. But me! I have no vision of me! I'm a fraud, a hoax, an illusion of a life!
Or, maybe I'm just tired and worn out.
Okay, here's something I should do:
I should cancel all my piano lessons for one week. Take a break.
Now, with that week, I should pack up my stuff, and my Conor, and drive to St. George and get my fix of Amber, World's Greatest Best Friend Ever.
Yeah, that's just what I should do.