Apparently I Had a Productive Weekend

I did the things.

I know.

I’m as surprised as you are.

It’s Labor Day weekend, which traditionally feels like it should be spent doing as little labor as humanly possible.

And yet, somehow, I have spent this weekend getting shit done.

Not in the terrifying influencer way.

I did not wake up at 4:30 in the morning, drink lemon water, run six miles, meditate while watching the sunrise, meal prep seventeen organic lunches, reorganize my entire house, and launch a six-figure side hustle before breakfast.

Obviously.

I have standards.

But I did things.

Things I’ve been thinking about.

Things I’ve been putting off.

Things I’ve started and wandered away from.

Things that existed only as ideas until I finally sat down and said, “Okay. What if we actually did this?”

And then I did.

Or, more accurately, I started doing one thing, which led to another thing, which led to another thing, until suddenly I looked around and realized I had somehow accomplished an impressive amount without ever officially deciding to Have A Productive Weekend.

This is apparently the secret.

Do not tell my brain we’re being productive.

It will become suspicious.

Just give it an interesting project and see what happens.

Because my brain does not particularly enjoy being told what it has to do.

Laundry?

Absolutely not.

Administrative task?

I have suddenly become very tired.

A project involving books, writing, tarot, runes, witchcraft, design, or some elaborate idea I absolutely did not need to invent?

Cancel my appointments.

I have work to do.

And maybe that’s why this weekend felt different.

A lot of what I accomplished wasn’t about checking obligations off a list.

It was about making things.

Building things.

Taking ideas I’ve been carrying around and giving them somewhere to exist outside my head.

There is something ridiculously satisfying about that.

Especially because I spend a lot of time feeling like I’m behind.

There is always another thing I should have done.

Another book I haven’t read.

Another project I haven’t finished.

Another part of my life I haven’t figured out.

Another imaginary adult somewhere who definitely has her shit together better than I do.

She’s probably drinking enough water, too.

Bitch.

But every once in a while, I think it’s worth stopping before immediately moving the goalpost.

Instead of looking at everything that’s still unfinished, I can look at what wasn’t finished three days ago.

Some of it is finished now.

Some of it is closer.

Some of it has transformed into something much bigger than I originally imagined.

And some new things have begun because apparently I am physically incapable of finishing three projects without creating four more.

We’re working on that.

Actually, no we’re not.

I’ve accepted it.

There will always be another notebook.

Another story.

Another idea.

Another wait, what if we did THIS?

That’s part of who I am.

And lately I’m starting to think maybe that’s not something I need to fix.

Because for all the times I’ve questioned what I’m doing with my life, there’s something worth noticing about the things I choose to do when I finally have time that belongs to me.

I make things.

I learn things.

I write things.

I build things.

I follow ridiculous ideas just to see where they go.

Sometimes they go nowhere.

Sometimes they turn into something I never could have planned.

And sometimes I reach the end of a three-day weekend, look back at everything I’ve done, and think:

Holy shit.

I did the things.

Tomorrow I’ll go back to regular life.

There will be alarms and responsibilities and tiny humans and probably at least one completely avoidable crisis.

There will still be unfinished projects waiting for me when I get home.

There will still be things I haven’t figured out.

But today?

I’m not going to look at what’s left.

I’m going to look at what I made.

And I’m going to let that count.