From the pile of dirty laundry separated into respective piles in my un-vaccuumed bedroom floor, to the 10 item checklist with only two crossed off, to the half read book sitting on the coffee table, to the 12 half-written blog posts that haven't been published. It's easy to look around and see all of the unfinished things that need to be done...completed...wrapped up with a pretty bow.
It's very uncharacteristic that I would leave so many things incomplete (except for the dirty laundry part). I like to finish things. I love having the sense of accomplishment and being able to check one more thing off my Post-It note. It makes me feel like I'm in control.
And I guess that's my point. Right now, I'm totally NOT in control.
With 25 days left until I get on a plane and head to Africa (and with the impending doom of my 30th birthday lurking around the corner), it's more glaringly obvious than it's been in a very long time that I am indeed, unfinished. My life is unfinished. There are so many things I have left to do. Things to complete. Things to finish.
Where to even begin is completely overwhelming. Tonight, I'll just worry about publishing some of those half written blog posts.