I meant to get a head start on marking today. Honestly, I did. But the four-footed one wanted to go for a longer walk today. And there were so many paw prints to sniff (the four-footed one did the sniffing, not I).
I meant to get lunches made in advance, but when I came home there was a huge pile of marking sitting there, silently judging me and making me feel guilty. I know, I had meant to do it earlier but the four-footed on prevented that from happening.
I meant to not rush out of the house like a bat heading out a dusk for a good feed. But I had to make lunches because I didn’t get them made in advance. I didn’t get them made in advance because there was marking to do. Marking which I had meant to do earlier, but the four-footed one required attention and a walk.
I meant to do a lot of things, I really did. But life got in the way. Some of it was good, and some of it wasn’t all that great, but I had intentions. I just missed on the follow through. Or is it that one carefully placed domino got knocked down and all that I had meant to get done failed to be done. And all that I meant to do now sits there, above me, making me feel less somehow. I have failed, I am a failure. I am guilty of not following through. But I wouldn’t change it, not for a moment. Because time with the four-footed one is so precious, and she is so curious. Who am I to curb that curiosity or deny her simple pleasures? Who am I to put unfair restrictions on her need to roam and explore? And who am I to tell myself I’m a failure simply because I missed something?