A little over a year ago, I had my schedule figured out. You know, the ideal schedule… one where I worked a reasonable number of hours (a new concept to me prior to that time) and took some personal time. It was a sweet there for a few months.

Now, I feel like my schedule is steam-rolling my life. (More like other people’s needs are trumping my own.) I don’t care much for the condition of my little cabin. I don’t like the sheer mass of “stuff” I’ve accumulated in the last couple years. I don’t care much for the low-quality junk food I’m consuming. I don’t care much for the hours I’m keeping. I’m not particularly happy with the decisions I’ve made — or rather the place I’ve found myself as a result of NOT making decisions, and letting myself be pulled this way and that.

So I have to scratch my head and try to figure out how and why I let this go awry. And, I have to fix it. NOW. It’s November and I’ve never been very good at starting a new year on a bad foot. I want things organized and planned and organized and clean and… did I mention organized?… by the time January 1 rolls around. I get this disease from my mother. It’s kind of a curse.

At least once a year I’m extremely organized, or horribly depressed… depending on what I do in the few weeks preceding the fateful date. So, the question is… what will it be this year? Organized, on track and happy… or miserable?

I think it’s time to get busy…