I bought David Allen’s book a while ago, but it’s still sitting on my shelf. Getting Things Done hasn’t got done, yet, apparently.
The book anyway.
I feel like kind of an asshole, lately, I have to admit. I was so good, when I was so good at slacking off, at sitting around online all night and day, talking to my favourite girls, tweeting like my fingers were on fire, commenting on and reading blogs. Now, I’ve been Getting Things Done, sans the book, and because of that, I’ve been pretty away.
I barely know what’s going on in the lives of some of the women I consider best friends. So, that makes me feel like an asshole. And understand why a Blackberry or iPhone is so integral to having a life, working and nourishing those important friendships.
But, see, I’ve been having a life and working and working more and nourishing the most important relationship, for once – mine with Isobel.
Yes, people, Zoeyjane’s taken time from the Internet to be a parent and to be social in real life.
I’ll just wait for you to shut your mouth.
{You know, you could catch flies, if you’re not careful.}
Indulge me. Look at this and tell me what you see:
The calendar of a chick so busy, she even tasks her paycheque cashing? That has at least five things to do, four days ahead, and is constantly adding more? That schedules season premieres?
What else?
Well, if you’re me, you’d notice that today, there were still six tasks left. And that there were none yesterday, or the day before.
Why?
Because Google Calendar is helping me pwn life. And with such pwning, I am Getting Things Done. And so, at the end of every day, all of my tasks have been accomplished, RSVPs have been emailed and scheduled as events and I get to go to bed and sleep the sleep of a person content in her anal-retentiveness.
Life is working, for the first time in a looooooooong time.
You thought modular furniture made me horny? You should see me on Sunday, when I add in the next week’s tasks, knowing that nothing will get forgotten or missed out on because I had to put out fires.
Fires no longer exist here, man.
All there is, is a smoking hot calendar.
Yeah, I know, I took it too far.
{but I really do love Google Calendar.}
As you were. Thank you for humouring me.
