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Sheltering-in-Place: Day 25

Woman lying down, wearing black. There are aliens on her socks. The text on the image reads, Pesky logic got in the way of desires again. Pharmacy trek is postponed.  Yeah, I’m bummed. But check out my socks!

The text on the image reads

Pesky logic got in the way of desires again. Pharmacy trek is postponed.
Yeah, I’m bummed.
But check out my socks!

So, yeah. Turns out that if I wait one more day, I can pick up more than one pharmacy thing. So. Yeah. Waiting. 

In the meantime, my leftover pieces of literature nerdom are pelting me with misremembered quotes about best laid plans and what the heart wants and pointing one's nose to the north. So, I'm going to feed my brain today instead of my feet. And, ya know, putter around home a bit. 

I'm a little surprised at how disappointed I am today. It's really not a big deal that I'm waiting one more day. It's mostly that I had a plan for today that did not come to fruition. It's frustrating. Frustrating things are amplified right now.

I'm not a huge planner when it comes to non-work things, generally. Most of what I've done for work requires plans within plans surrounding plans made by plans. So, when it comes to most other things, I tend to allow for spontaneity. Usually, it leads to less stress, more adventure, and learning experiences that I may not have known existed. Having loose or no plans also makes disappointments less common. If there are no expectations, there's nothing to not be met. The day gets to be what it is. For my little life, that tends to work out well enough.

While trying to un-misremember quotes today, I have comfy clothes, happy alien socks, and a sweet little peridot necklacethe color life, remember.    

I took some time and found some of the quotes falling apart in my head.

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley.

—Robert Burns, To a Mouse

 

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive
performance?

William Shakespeare, Henry IV

 

And followed his nose
    To the north,
    To the north,
  And follow'd his nose
    To the north.

—John Keats, A Song About Myself