“I am so busy doing nothing… that the idea of doing anything – which as you know, always leads to something – cuts into the nothing and then forces me to have to drop everything.“
-Jerry Seinfeld
Oh boy, I accomplished nothing today, maybe less than nothing, and it was sensational. I really wish we’d tried this sooner. I’m not sure I should be writing this, actually, because it may count as something and I’m really hell bent on nothingness today. Well, I certainly never write anything of importance, so I think it still counts as nothing. We’ll go with that. And technically, if we’re going full disclosure, I did bake a lemon bundt cake today, and Jungledad did wash the bedroom ceiling, but that’s all we did so it still counts as nothing.
Its a rebound thing I think. Last month and the first half of this month were completely insane. Shifts up the volcano up the whazoo, DIY projects, flights, illnesses, milestones, and everything in between. We crammed so much in last month we figure we’re good for the next few months, maybe the next few years. Just chillin is beyond awesome. Its foreign and exotic to me, like tofu or speaking Dutch. I plan on doing it until it feels weird. That’s my strategy with most things.
We’re ridiculous people, my husband and me. We just can’t sit still, never have done. We get up in the morning (if we ever go to bed) and set an itinerary of 10,000 things to be accomplished by nightfall. I don’t even know what drives us, I guess its just this overwhelming compulsion to DO. We’re total hypocrites because we get frustrated with the twins for being exactly like us, forgoing sleep in favor of doing. Refusing to sit, always in motion. Always the doing. We can’t just talk about things, we must DO them. Often we do them wrong, or unnecessarily, but this doesn’t dampen our enthusiasm in the least.
Hey, let’s redo the entire house, top to bottom between the hours of 8pm to 5am for 2 months straight. Let’s roast a turkey with all the fixins in August. Lets drive cross country and add loads of crazy time consuming detours so we can stop in towns like “Epiphany” and then find ourselves writing on the chalkboard in the one room schoolhouse where Laura Ingalls Wilder used to teach. Let’s go to Peru and hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. Let’s paint the girls room purple. Lets boil strawberry guavas into a syrup, lets hike up the volcano, let’s drive all the way across the island and then back again. Let’s drive across the Atacama desert in Chile until we accidentally cross the Argentinian border and the border guards haul one of us to the interrogation room and offer a cigarette. Let’s bake a key lime pie and pick the limes ourselves. Let’s stay in an old olive mill and drive through Tuscany, eating sheep cheese and drinking Chianti. Let’s go to the Cannes Film festival in our grimy student clothes and make fun of the celebrities. Let’s drive across the French Alps until we have to pull over and barf. Let’s sail to Bimini and meet a 94 year old man who used to fish with Hemingway. Lets move to an island in the middle of the Pacific. Lets have babies. Lets start a blog.
Better yet, let’s do nothing. I like nothing. I could get used to nothing. I could sleep with nothing and feel no guilt. That nothing, its really something, I highly recommend it.
