The Same Old Song and Dance
I've had the same to-do list sitting on my desk all week.
I list the tasks with boxes in front, weave them into mind maps, thinking the right format might shake something loose, but it never does. The truth is, I look at the list and cringe to think about doing just one. A deliberate choice would mean the deliberate denial of a dozen other options. Every conscious action feels like a theft. And so I act in a haze of subconscious urges and indistinct actions, flitting from one task to the next with as much thought as a butterfly selecting a flower.