I don’t make my bed on Tuesdays.
So when I get out of bed on Tuesday mornings, that is all I do–get out of it. Because I don’t make my bed on Tuesdays. And I also don’t feel guilty about it.
It’s nice to know what you do. It’s freedom to know what you don’t do.
And I don’t make my bed on Tuesdays.
Or give to causes at the grocery store check-out line.
Or volunteer in two places on the same Sunday.
Or write lists on unlined paper.
Or hold too fast to any of these “rules.”
But it helps to have them. It sets me free from the expectations of 1000 different people and things. They still ask. They still wonder why not. So I guess really all it’s doing is setting me free from my own expectations. Expectations to be helpful, to be pretty, to be pleasing, to be willing…to be perfect.
It’s kind of funny. We keep reassuring each other that we’re not perfect. As though everyone else didn’t already know. News flash to self: you’re the only one delusional enough to expect yourself to be perfect. Everyone else has already either embraced your flaws or moved on.
And so I don’t make my bed on Tuesdays. As a declaration to myself of my inability to do it all. And it sets me free to say no to other things too.
There are things I don’t do. And that might not always be right. And it might annoy some people.
And that’s ok.
And it’s ok that there are things you don’t do too.
So do tell. What don’t you do?