My basement is a mess. But I don’t super care. Spring home maintenance is starting to nag and tug at the corners of my mind, the parts where the most mental spiders and cobwebs hide. But I don’t super care. My kid probably needs a bath. Don’t super care. I need to work on my bad mood, dark cloud, can-winter-just-be-over-already shitty attitude... because winter is like, basically over. But not today. Because I don’t super care. I haven’t been sticking to my keto-ish diet lately, like at all. Don’t. Super. Care.
This statement is my new diversion life tactic, the one that I need to use sometimes in order to NOT get overwhelmed by all the things—all the things that I’m not doing but my brain tells me I should be. In short, it’s how I’m avoiding my ever growing, always present to-do list. Yep, the one I inflict upon myself.
Much like my own kids, I voluntarily created this list. And most of the time I love it. It keeps me on point, focused and organized. But again, much like the ones whom I love deeply, this list sometimes gets the best of me. And then I kinda want to punch it in the face. But instead of getting physical, or really taking any sort of action at all, I stay in my sweatpants all day, eat ice cream, look those to-do list items in the face and say, I don’t super care.
I could just simply say, “I don’t care.“ But the “super” part really drives it home, you know? It’s just the bit of energy that this passive aggressive statement needs. It makes me feel it, really believe it. Otherwise I might prove myself wrong and actually start caring, start doing. And today, I just can’t. Because tomorrow I probably will and I have to preserve my energy. So I’m giving myself permission to take a break today. After all, if I super cared every day, there wouldn’t be enough of me leftover to enjoy, well, being me...or eating this ice cream. And holy shit is it good.
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