On Productivity and Completion

I woke this morning just as dawn was breaking. For once it was neither the alarm clock from hell nor my dogs that woke me, but nature's music. I stayed in bed, awake, just listening to the birds singing in the dawn and the summer breeze susurrating through the trees, as the sky got pinker and pinker.

Eventually, my mind started to wander, and I began to think about when I'm most productive.

I am not usually a morning person. This is why I'm tickled to death that no one really cares when I come into work in the morning, although I try to keep regular hours (though, regular for me is 10 to 6) so that people know when I'm available. I try to do as I was taught and get rid of quick tasks first – posting rates, making status calls – but no matter how much I do all day, I find that I do the most and best work in the hours between three and six. I'm just weird that way.

More generally, though, I am most productive when my world is complete. I had all these lofty plans of rearranging furniture in my house, etc, this weekend, and then I ended up moving into nesting mode instead. Well, part of that was allergies, and a bacterial infection it took me forever to shake, but part of it was just that Fuzzy was away. And it's odd, because I'm perfectly capable of making decisions and dragging shelves across the room, and yet, when he's not around, even when we're not interacting, everything I do feels 'off'.

It's not really codependence, but inter-dependence, I think. And maybe it's normal after seven years of marriage.

One of the journalists I read said that when she's away from her husband on business she feels like a kite without someone holding the string, and that when she comes home it's like the string is being reeled back in. And while I don't feel that extreme, ever, I really understand the feelings she's describing.

It's nearly 11:30. I've posted rates, talked to three clients, and printed two appraisals. I've also nursed half of my morning macchiato, and chatted with CL and E a bit. I feel a little unfocussed, but that's because my mental rambling in the pink light of dawn caused me to drift back to sleep, and my head is still buzzing a bit from the antihistamine.