My favorite day, by far, is tomorrow. Tomorrow is going to be wonderful. Tomorrow I'm going to get so much done. I'm going to write a sparkling, clever blog. (You'll have to decide if this one counts.) I'm going to work for at least two hours on a play, maybe even bring one to completion. I'm going to clean out one of my filing cabinet drawers. I'm going to do a one hour workout and take a walk. No avoidance behaviors, no games, no eating when I'm not hungry.
Eating, oh, I'm going to eat so wisely, so healthfully tomorrow. It will be all protein and vegetables, no sugar, no carbs. After all, if I chow down on the Girl Scout cookies and chocolate covered almonds today, then tomorrow they won't be around to tempt me.
Oh yes, I'm going to be so good tomorrow, so virtuous, so righteous that at the end of the day, I'll be able to look at myself in the mirror and say "Good going, you. A day well spent", instead of "Oh well, there's always tomorrow."
The trouble is, I'm old enough now to know that there isn't always tomorrow. My tomorrows are finite. I'm still behaving with a young woman's habits and indulgences. I need to create new habits, new rigor, new intentionality, and I'd better start today because someday - well, it's not so vague any more. Someday is here.
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