It's impossible to do everything.
Each day I set a few modest goals: workout for one hour, write here for one hour, read for one hour, work ten hours at my job, father a two and a half year old boy, sleep for 6 hours, spend one devout hour in bed before sleep practicing preemptive atheism.
Then, there is of course time spent eating, showering, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, hugging people when I see them, hugging them when I say goodbye, chatting about my day, listening about theirs, driving places, fixing things, taking pictures, reading emails, preparing food, taking note of the hills and the sky, drinking coconut water, considering what qualities to esteem and adore in middle-aged women, wrestling with the flesh in my pants when it gets feisty.
A flattering number of people arrive here most days, to see for a moment through my eyes, yet not one of them has ever offered to go to the dentist for me.
.
