The universe keeps telling me to slow down—loudly and often. Apparently, I have short-term memory loss.
This morning started with a doable to-do list. That lasted about 30 seconds. I noticed a water stain on the wall, which reminded me the upstairs needs painting. Since I’m turning that space into an office, it suddenly felt urgent. And that’s when it all unraveled.
7:30 a.m.
“Okay, that wall… and that one… and wow, the ceiling? What mood am I going for? Time for a paint color deep-dive!”
9:00 a.m.
Two hours later, I’ve selected nothing but somehow watched a YouTube video on belly fat and found myself planning a trip to Lowe’s.
10:30 a.m.
In Lowe’s, I get overwhelmed by paint options. Do I want satin or semi-gloss? Quart or gallon? Also, how did I end up in the garden section eyeing Lily of the Valley bulbs?
11:30 a.m.
Back home with paint and leftover pizza in the microwave, I head out to the garage to get the roller. Instead, I spot the half-dug hole for a future fish pond and—naturally—start rototilling.
11:45 a.m.
I hit a rock, grab a trowel, and find myself digging with archaeological precision (old habits die hard). I find a marble. Then six more.
Clearly, someone lost their marbles, and I wonder if it’s me.
12:15 p.m.
The rototiller hits steel wire and wraps around the axle. I flip the machine over and head to the basement for WD-40, dragging dirt through the kitchen.
There, I realize I forgot to switch the laundry.
12:25 p.m.
Back outside, staring at the broken machine, I finally get it: This is one of those “slow your roll” moments from the universe. So naturally, I decide to blog about it.
I grab my camera to document the chaos and end up taking pictures of the fish instead. They’re the real reason I came outside, after all. They survived the winter in an above-ground pond—the least I can do is give them a moment on the internet.
Sure, getting only three hours of sleep probably didn’t help this morning’s misadventure. But if I’m honest, I’ve done this well-rested too.
So now I’m making coffee. I’ll take it slow. I still have the afternoon to get something done.
Maybe I’ll paint.
Or maybe I’ll finally eat that pizza still waiting in the microwave.
Deborah Sickle Hill 