Frantic or Efficient?

I currently have 23 minutes until I have to force myself to get in bed. Originally the 'force goal' had been 11 pm. For some reason I've pushed it up...don't know why. Maybe to see how fast I can complete my new set of tasks I also just made up (i.e., write this entry, put new sheets on my bed, get a number out of my old blackberry which is beyond dead and giving me the spinning hourglass of death, prepare room for morning, etc etc).

I used to do this (meaning made up neurotic deadlines) in college too, especially during paper writing. I'd sit down to write a 10, 15, 20 page paper. I'd sit down with a gigantic water bottle. I'd chug water while I wrote. I'd refill and chug more. Side note: My bladder is the size of a dime. Once I was literally busting at the seams because of insane water consumption, I'd tell myself I wasn't allowed to use the restroom until I finished x number of pages. This is bizarre and batshit crazy, I know...but truthfully, my absolute BEST papers were written this way. I work very well under pressure. Surprisingly well. And apparently 'pressure' and 'stress' are two very different things. Thank you New York City for making this embarrassingly and painfully evident. But that is another story entirely.

Regardless of my 'deciding' to run around like a chicken with it's head cutoff, I have to say, today has been a) INCREDIBLE and b) Incredibly efficient. After what I can honestly say was simultaneously one of my worst (for a number of reasons) and best (solely because it kicked my ass into gear) weekends of my life in NY, I have conquered my Monday.

I woke up at 4am. I needed to use the restroom (I'm telling you, I drink a lot of water even when I'm not forcing myself to write a paper at mad speed), and I was thirsty (again with the water). By 4:30am I was still awake. Wide awake. I trolled various news sites in hopes of falling back asleep. No dice. At 4:45 I got out of bed. And got ready to go to the gym. Which for some reason I thought was going to open at 5am, but in actuality wouldn't open until 5:30am. What do I do with this aimless half hour? I run. WHAAAAAT?! Anyone who knows me knows I don't run. You could force me to choose run and live or not run and die, and I'd probably choose option B (over dramatic, yes...but really, I despise running). Anyway. I have half an hour to kill, I want my full hour workout, I have to be back at my apartment to get ready for work at 6:15. I run. Around a few blocks over and over. Lame. I do my little elliptical workout. I complete an hour of nice hard cardio by 6am. I am ready for work by 6:45. I am at work by 7:58.

Friends. It is 8am and I have already kicked life's ass. Dear weekend: anything you wanted to try to tell me about being a bad human being, or not having my life together...I'm going to need you to take those unsavory tidbits and shove them somewhere the sun don't see. Cause this girl is on top of it...and it gets better.

I get off work at 5pm, have made some returns I've been meaning to make for three weeks by 6. I am fed and watered by 6:30. My laundry is taken out. I have sent emails for work, looked for new work and paid my bills. All by 7 pm. I even made time (by 8) to talk to friends. Holy mother of all people, I had voice communication with people I love.

I have completed everything on my notoriously 'uncompleteable' list for the day by 8pm (the changing sheets thing was an afterthought which I will attend to in about thirty seconds). I think I'm back on track. I'm conquering. With a smile on my face. And taking care of myself.