Doing More than Two Things in a Day is F**king Impossible

Today did not go exactly as I’d hoped it would. No, not at all. I woke up this morning with what seemed like modest, do-able plans. Here’s how I thought my day would go:

  • Wake up, write a blog post about the awful stabbing incident in Sanlitun yesterday, go to the grocery store, get a haircut, meet with my boss, have a relaxing night.

See? That’s not a lot. I didn’t even have to work today. Expecting to get all these things accomplished is not exactly having delusions of grandeur.

And yet, the day ends in failure. I did indeed go to the grocery store and I did successfully meet with my boss. But that turned out to be all I could do. My hair is not cut, I never got the time to write my blog post on the stabbing (tomorrow), and I looked at apartments online with Feng Deng most of the night, which wasn’t really relaxing and concluded with the realization that we would be spending future nights also looking at apartments. Which means we will be spending future nights not relaxing.

So after today, I’ve concluded that doing more than two things in a day is fucking impossible. That’s the standard I shall hold myself to from now on. Not five or four or even three things. Two. If I get two things done, I will be content with myself. Because expecting to buy peanut butter and listen to your boss talk and get your head buzzed and also write a blog that has some thought put into it…that’s ambitious to the same degree as those people that go on American Idol even though their singing sounds worse than the weird high-pitched squeal my left lung sometimes makes when I’ve smoked too many cigarettes.

Anyways. That’s all for today. It’s 11:30 and time to call it a night.

I go to bed promising myself that tomorrow I will write my post about the stabbing.

And I will do one other thing.

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