The closer you look

Today is one of those glorious days that starts out as a blank white canvas waiting to become a masterpiece. Just hope I don't mess it up.

The trepidation creeping into my outlook is a familiar fear that has my mother's voice echoing in my mind's ear. "The closer you look, the more you see to do." In Mom's recounting of that mantra many times while I was growing up, it usually had to do with cleaning the house. She'd start on one chore and it would spawn three more. I encounter this axiom with multiple applications, not just cleaning.

This might be a good day to start downloading some computer files onto a new portable hard drive I picked up this week in preparation for eventually getting a new computer. But can I just start downloading files without reorganizing them? Or maybe I should explore the Memorial Day sales to shop for good deals on a new computer right now. And what about all those other great sales I know I will see if I head to the store?

Then there are the extra Lazy Susan turntables I have left over after picking up several for new cabinets in the kitchen. If I try to put one in the pantry, I will be tempted to clean out and reorganize all the shelves. Using one upstairs in the bathroom vanity poses the same challenge of turning into a much bigger job.

Outside tasks also beckon. The tomato plants in the garden need to be staked. But playing in the dirt in one corner of the yard could lead to an all-day affair. I know I will look around and see the flower beds need to be edged, and spent blooms need to be dead-headed. And while I'm at it, wouldn't it be fun to run over to my daughter's house and play in her flower beds, too?

Maybe if I don't put my contacts in today, I can limit my vision so I don't see so much to do.