Tag: Time Management

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A Day of Small Chaos and Sweet Rewards

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

I woke up this morning to the gentle sound of rain tapping on the window—nature’s way of saying, “Good morning, here’s a free car wash for your soul.” My wife informed me that earlier, it had been raining so hard that she abandoned her morning workout. This is shocking because she usually treats her exercise routine with the seriousness of a NASA launch checklist. If she skips, something dramatic has happened. And yes—when I peeked outside, I understood. It was cold, gloomy, and the kind of rain that makes even Halloween candy nervous.

Today was also my “second attempt” at a dentist appointment—because I completely missed the first one. (If Forgetfulness were an Olympic sport, I’d have a medal by now.) My wife kindly offered to drive me, even though the clinic is within walking distance, but my weather app swore on its digital life that the rain would stop. And for once, it didn’t lie. Several hours later, the rain paused, and I set off on foot.

I told my wife I didn’t need the ride, and since she was on a work call, I quietly snuck out of the house like a teenager breaking curfew—except I was headed to get my teeth cleaned, not to a party.

The appointment went smoothly, but as soon as I stepped outside, the sky decided to rejoin the conversation. It started raining again on my way home. This was inconvenient, because my grand plan was to run right after the dentist. My schedule was already wobbling like a badly balanced washing machine, so I knew I had to get home and sprint back out immediately.

Luckily, the rain downgraded itself from “dramatic monologue” to “occasional sprinkle.” Still, it was cold enough to remind me it is indeed autumn. After 30 minutes of running in this half-rain, half-air situation, I was soaked, chilled, and squinting through water-speckled glasses, which is perhaps the least aerodynamic condition imaginable. I didn’t hit my target pace, but I was close enough to blame it on meteorology with dignity.

Now, here’s the best part: every time I go to the dentist, I treat myself to a cupcake from the bakery nearby. Tradition is important, after all. I asked my wife if she wanted one, but she declined—as she usually does. She does not share my passionate, borderline-philosophical relationship with sweets. Her loss, I say. I thought about that cupcake during my entire run like it was the Holy Grail. And yes—I ate it after my shower, and it was spectacular.

One dentist appointment down. Another one set—six months from now. This time, I saved it in my Google Calendar with enough alerts to wake the dead. May I never miss it again.

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Lesson Learned from Missed a Dentist Appointment

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, I had a dentist appointment—emphasis on had. As in: it existed, it was scheduled, it was on my Google Calendar, it came with not one but two automated reminders… and yet somehow my brain decided to treat it like deleted spam. The dentist’s office called asking where I was, and I had the audacity to be surprised.

I apologized profusely, of course. Thankfully, they squeezed me in for tomorrow. Pure luck. I still remember when my wife had to reschedule once because of a last-minute work emergency—she waited ages for a new slot, partly because she’s extremely particular about her appointment times. Early morning only. Never the first several days of any month, end of the month, quarter-end, year-end, or audit days. Her calendar has more rules than the IRS handbook.

Meanwhile, I’m flexible. If the dentist said, “We have a 3:17 p.m. slot behind the storage closet,” I would simply say, “Great, see you then.”

What Made Me To Miss The Appointment

Still, I’m annoyed with myself. Missing medical appointments is no small thing—especially when doctors plan their schedules months in advance. We book our dental visits six months out for a reason, not because I enjoy committing to events half a year before I know what my face will look like.

After my brain stroke and the possibility of a kidney transplant came up, my doctor told me to keep every tooth in perfect shape—no cavities, no surprises. So for the last decade, I’ve treated my mouth like a priceless museum artifact.

One of the reasons we chose our current home was that the dentist (and my other doctors) are within walking distance. My wife made sure of that. She wanted me to be able to walk over anytime something unusual happened—loose retainer, chipped tooth, mysterious twinge—without relying on Uber or coordinating schedules. I love that freedom more than I care to admit.

And that’s why missing today’s appointment felt unacceptable. I pride myself on keeping things under control, and yet my brain decided to take a personal day.

Next To Do Action

So tomorrow, I’ll walk to the dentist just after noon, reshuffle my entire schedule, and run later in the day. I checked the weather—it might rain, but at least the temperature looks friendly. If nothing else, this whole ordeal taught me one thing: I need a better reminder system… or maybe a personal assistant whose only job is to drag me to medical appointments.

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A Lesson in Routine and Resetting With One Small Change

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Hello Dear Readers,

Today began in a way that completely threw off my usual rhythm. We had planned a trip to the Asian grocery store to pick up some essentials — tofu, fried tofu (aburaage), and miso. We don’t go often, but when we do, it’s serious business. My wife stocks up and preserves everything carefully so it lasts. For her, one grocery trip means the next one to two hours are dedicated to washing, prepping, and storing, which also means she has to rearrange her entire weekly schedule. She plans these things like military operations — I usually know about Asian grocery day a week in advance.

But today, I failed the mission briefing. I overslept. By the time I woke up, it was already the time we were supposed to leave. So I rushed: got dressed, shoveled cereal into my mouth, and skipped my usual morning routine entirely. No planks, no language study, no texting my sisters. All of it postponed until after the grocery run.

This small shift — waking up late — changed the energy of the whole morning. My wife had already finished her entire morning routine before we left, of course. Meanwhile, I felt like I was sprinting from behind the entire day. Still, once we returned home, I told myself: just start. So I began working through my to-do list.

I wanted to run my 10k before the temperature climbed too high, so I pushed some other tasks to later and headed out. Normally, I check my headset while stretching after my plank session — but since I skipped everything, I also skipped the headset check. And just 2 kilometers into the run, my headset battery died. Complete silence.

I pushed through one more kilometer, but imagining another hour of silent running felt like an emotional desert. So, I stopped.

For me, having an audiobook during a run is more than background noise — it keeps me moving, keeps me focused. Without it, everything feels heavier. But despite the rocky morning, I still managed to get my chores done later, just like any other Saturday.

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When Life Gives You Rain, Trade Your Mower for Running Shoes

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Written September 25, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Sometimes the universe likes to laugh at your carefully planned to-do list. This morning, it chuckled right in my face. I woke up, stretched, looked out the window—and saw rain. Again. The lawn had already staged a mutiny thanks to weeks of drizzle and warm weather, but mowing in the rain is as effective as trying to blow-dry your hair in a hurricane.

So, breakfast it was. I sipped my coffee and gave the sky my best “disappointed dad” look, hoping it would feel guilty and stop raining. No luck. And even if it did stop, soggy grass is a mower’s worst nightmare. My frustration grew—plans derailed by something completely out of my control.

Enter: my wife. She’s basically a Jedi Master of time management, trained since her teenage years. Watching me sulk at the window, she offered a simple solution: “Why not swap today’s mowing with tomorrow’s run?”

Genius. And annoyingly reasonable.

So, I laced up my running shoes and hit the pavement. And you know what? I ran better than yesterday. Turns out swapping a mower for running shoes isn’t the worst deal after all. My wife reminded me of an ancient truth: control what you can, stop glaring at what you can’t.

The lawn, of course, will get its day—maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. But here’s the kicker: I secretly dread more mowing anyway. It’s autumn, the grass should be retiring by now! Every raindrop feels like nature’s way of extending lawn season just to spite me.

Still, once I made the switch, I realized my mood had already improved. Running in the rain (well, drizzle) was a lot better than sulking indoors. And yes, the lawn still looks like a small jungle, but at least I got a solid run and a story out of it.

Lesson learned? When the rain ruins your plans, don’t argue with the clouds. Just change shoes.

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Lawn Wars: Episode I — The Procrastinator Awakens

Written April 1, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

We had a few glorious days of summer teasing us in spring—sunny, toasty, practically begging us to throw a backyard BBQ. Naturally, that was followed by a dramatic thunderstorm that rolled in like nature’s way of saying, “Just kidding!” Now, the lawns (or let’s be honest—mostly weeds) are popping up faster than mushrooms after rain. Blink, and it’s a jungle out there.

So yes, I finally broke out the mower today for the season’s grand premiere. Was I on top of it? Not quite. Did I wait until the grass whispered “Feed me” like a scene from Little Shop of Horrors? Absolutely.

Here’s the twist: that thunderstorm didn’t just bring lightning—it dropped the temps and left the ground moist enough to make any worm feel at home. I told myself, “I’ll wait until it warms up a bit.” And, well… you know how that goes. Suddenly, it’s go-time, and I’m only halfway through the lawn before I have to switch gears to handle more urgent stuff. Classic case of chore interrupted.

Now, time management has never exactly been my superpower. My wife, on the other hand, is a time ninja. She’s been planning her days backward since elementary school—mapping out roadblocks before they even show up. She’s basically got a sixth sense for scheduling. Me? I was more of the “wing it and win it” type. Pre-stroke, I’d procrastinate and still get things done—maybe not gracefully, but hey, results matter, right?

Post-stroke, things are a bit different. I’ve gained endurance, sure, but the prep time? Oh boy, it’s like slow-cooking a brisket. And let’s not forget the weather curveballs. Outdoor tasks are more like navigating an obstacle course built by Mother Nature herself.

According to the weather app (which is only slightly more reliable than a coin toss), we’re in for more thunder, more storms, and possibly a few surprise tornado drills. There might be windows—tiny, rain-free ones—where I can sneak in a mowing session. Fingers crossed.

Nashville, this time of year, is a real mixed bag: warm one minute, thunderous the next. I think I’ve officially earned the consequences of my lawn care procrastination. Lesson learned (again): next week, I start early—even if it means bundling up and mowing in the morning chill.

Wish me luck. Or better yet, send dry weather.

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Leaf It to Me: Adventures in Yard Work

Written March 23, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, I found myself engaged in a rare and noble quest: yard work. Not my usual weekend ritual, mind you. I typically leave the gardening to people with a stronger back and a greener thumb. But alas, when you live on a hill, gravity, and nature team up like villains in a buddy cop movie—always ready to make things harder than they need to be.

Now, our yard has a bit of a wild streak. If left alone, it doesn’t just grow—it plots. One year, we made the rookie mistake of letting the ivy do its thing. “It’ll look charming,” we said. “Like an English cottage!” What we got instead was a full-on plant invasion. The ivy crept up the side of our house like it was trying to break in. And since the exterior isn’t fully bricked, my wife was convinced it would start dismantling our home from the foundation up. We ended up yanking it off the wall like it owed us money and then spent the rest of the day cleaning up its leafy aftermath. Never again.

This week, my wife decided it was time to bring order to the front yard. She had asked me earlier to vacuum—yes, vacuum—the leaves from the front yard so she could tame some decorative plants that had begun asserting their independence. I agreed, of course, then promptly forgot. Saturday came and went in a blur of other tasks. Classic.

Luckily, the weather today was cooperative. My weather app promised rain… just not yet. So I suited up and got to it. Leaf vacuum in hand, I tackled the neglected zone while my wife charged in later with a weedwhacker, swinging it like a hedge-knight with a hedge-trimming sword. She’s been clearing weeds too—methodically, heroically, like she’s one step away from turning the whole place into a botanical museum.

Now, my wife is a loyal reader of Eat That Frog! by Brian Tracy. She’s constantly organizing, scheduling, and maximizing productivity. However, she claims she struggles with “putting things away,” though I think the real issue is her to-do list has more pages than War and Peace. When she blames herself for not getting everything done, I remind her we’re human, not calendar apps with arms.

Ironically, it was her beloved frog book that nudged me into action today. One of its golden rules? Don’t put off the tough stuff. So next time I’m assigned an oddball task, I’ll let my phone remember for me. Set a reminder. No excuses.

Because if you’re going to eat the frog, you may as well season it and serve it hot.

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A Comedy of Errors: My Morning Adventure in Forgetfulness

Written February 25, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning was a disaster of my own making—an entirely avoidable one, at that. It all started with a simple yet catastrophic decision: going back to sleep.

My wife had to leave early for work, so I woke up with her, saw her off, and then—because I am, at times, my own worst enemy—I crawled back into bed. When my alarm rang at its usual time, I reasoned that there was no immediate need to rise and shine. Why rush? The world could wait. I could bask in the warmth of my blankets for just a little while longer.

Ah, but then—the horror! Like a bolt of lightning, it struck me. I had an appointment at the phlebotomy lab. This morning. In a moment, I went from blissful comfort to full-blown panic mode.

Suddenly, I was a man on a mission. Breakfast was a frantic affair—more a feeding frenzy than a meal. I barely finished swallowing before summoning an Uber to whisk me across town. Somehow, by sheer force of will (and the generosity of traffic lights), I arrived roughly on time. My reward? A needle in my arm and the satisfaction of knowing I had narrowly avoided disaster.

The Saga of the Quarterly Lab Visit

This whole lab ordeal isn’t a weekly thing, thank goodness. It happens once every three months—a fun little prelude to my nephrologist appointments. The lab used to be conveniently located within walking distance, but those were the good old days. Now, thanks to the ever-evolving world of healthcare logistics, both my doctor’s office and the lab have migrated to opposite ends of the city. Since my wife was at work, Uber was my chariot of choice.

A Kidney’s Hard-Won Victory

Once upon a time, my kidneys were in such dire shape that a transplant was on the horizon—stage five of kidney disease, the final boss level. But through some miracle of discipline (and possibly sheer stubbornness), I clawed my way back to stage three. Even my doctors were impressed. Kidneys don’t just bounce back like that. It’s been an uphill battle—strict diet, exercise, a truckload of medication—but I intend to keep it that way. If my kidneys have fought this hard, the least I can do is not sabotage them.

The Curious Case of the Urgency-Driven Wife

Speaking of discipline, my wife operates on a completely different level. She thrives on urgency. More time? Not helpful. More deadlines? That’s where she shines. She has goals stacked like dominos—lifelong ones, yearly ones, monthly ones, and even daily ones. Meanwhile, I apparently struggle with remembering a single appointment that’s been on my calendar for months.

A Morning Lost in Translation

In my defense, I used to have a built-in scheduling assistant—my wife. For years, she managed my appointments with an efficiency that I now recognize I took for granted. But since 2017, I’ve been the proud (if slightly forgetful) owner of my own calendar. And today, that system failed spectacularly. I’m fairly certain I ignored every phone alarm. Maybe I was half-asleep. Maybe I was just being me.

The Aftermath of Chaos

Once I got back home—blood drawn, dignity slightly bruised—I tried to restore order to my day. I worked out, did my language practice, and checked off my morning to-do list. By some miracle, I still had time before dinner prep to catch my breath and, of course, write about my self-inflicted chaos. What is the moral of the story? Maybe don’t ignore your alarms. Or better yet, don’t trust a half-asleep brain to make scheduling decisions. It does not have your best interests at heart.

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A Birthday, A Housewarming, and a Dash of Chaos

Written February 22, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Today is a bit of a whirlwind—but in the best way possible. First off, it’s my sister’s birthday, which is reason enough to celebrate. Even better, we’re heading over to her brand-new house, a place she and her family just bought. However, there’s a slight plot twist: her household has been on a merry-go-round of sickness for weeks. What is the official party status? Still a little up in the air.

She hadn’t confirmed anything earlier, but I assumed the celebration was still happening. Turns out, I guessed right—she texted this morning that we’re good to go. That means I get to see her, which is great news, and my wife—who adores our niece—is downright thrilled. She’s been working on my sister’s birthday gifts for months. Usually, she buys them early and lets them sit around like museum exhibits, waiting for their grand unveiling. This time, though, she’s been swamped with year-end work, so guess who got the honor of wrapping everything? That’s right—me. And if I do say so myself, those gifts are wrapped with precision, if not perfection.

Of course, with all the festivities, my well-laid weekend plans had to shuffle around. Running? Rescheduled. Vacuuming? Pushed to tomorrow—without a hint of regret. My wife, ever the planner, had already mapped out next week’s meals, and rather than making a separate trip, she cleverly added her bag to the grocery list. That way, we can swing by Kroger on the way home and check that errand off without a fuss. Efficiency at its finest.

One small concern: my wife pointed out that lingering too long at my sister’s might not be the best idea, given their recent bout of illness. Fair point. Usually, my brother-in-law takes charge of the kitchen—he’s a fantastic cook and loves whipping up meals for any and all occasions. But this time, they’re playing it safe with Chinese takeout. As for dessert? That’s covered. I baked a cake yesterday, and it’s ready to steal the show.

Now, let’s talk about my wife’s relationship with time—she fills every minute of the day like it’s a carry-on bag that absolutely must fit in the overhead compartment. Even on a day like this, her schedule is packed. She’s up at an ungodly hour, claiming it makes her more productive. And honestly? It works. The woman does not stop—unless she’s ill (which is rare because she’s extra careful about germs, mostly for my sake). I, on the other hand, take a more… measured approach. I know exactly what I need to get done this weekend, and I’m confident it’ll all be wrapped up smoothly.

For now, though, the to-do list can wait. We’re off to celebrate, see the new house, and enjoy some cake. Priorities, right?

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A Warmer Week and the Battle Against Procrastination

Written January 27, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

At long last, it seems the days of running in the bone-chilling cold are behind me. No more bracing for that sharp, icy slap of air first thing in the morning. As long as I give the sun a little time to do its job, the temperatures are downright pleasant. Granted, today still has a bit of a seasonal chill, but compared to last week? Practically tropical. And if the forecast holds, we might even tiptoe into actual warm territory soon.

With the start of a new week, I’m determined to hit the ground running—both literally and figuratively. I’ve stacked my to-do list a little higher than usual since my wife has been working longer hours. It’s her busiest season (audit and tax season—fun times), so I’m trying to take some things off her plate. A small gesture, but one that hopefully makes a difference.

The upside of this milder weather? My runs are feeling smoother, and faster when it’s too cold, my body protests. But now? Now, I can focus on picking up my pace and making the most of my workouts. And, of course, with spring around the corner, outdoor chores are about to demand their fair share of attention.

After wrapping up my morning exercise, I dove into my other tasks. Blog post? Almost done. Run? Still on the agenda. And then there’s my writing project—the one I’ve been neglecting. I plan to chip away at it while listening to Sanderson’s writing lectures, which, if I’m being honest, I should have been doing last week.

Confession time: I completely slacked off. I let distractions win. Writing? Ignored. Lectures? Skipped. The result? I’m further behind than I should be, and to make matters worse, I’m still floundering when it comes to figuring out how long writing a book should take. That uncertainty makes it too easy to procrastinate.

My wife, on the other hand, takes a much more structured approach. Whenever she starts a new writing project, she logs everything—research time, drafting hours, and revisions. She fully admits her memory isn’t great for tracking details, so she writes it all down. And here’s the key: after going through the process a few times, she gets a clear sense of how long each phase takes. She’s cracked the code.

Maybe it’s time I do the same. If I track my progress, I might finally figure out what’s realistic instead of just guessing (or, worse, stalling). So, here’s to getting back on track—one run, one blog post, and one writing session at a time.

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From Cookie Cravings to Homemade Treats: A Lesson in Grocery Planning

Written December 22, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

I decided to bake a batch of cookies. I usually get a box of cookies from the grocery store, which contains about 10 cookies. For some reason, I forgot to get some cookies yesterday. I was distracted with the ingredients for the dessert I wanted to make for the family Christmas party. 

My wife is not fond of forgetting to purchase anything or wasting food due to purchasing too much. So, my wife creates a grocery list for the menu for the following weeks. I am good at not getting extra items just because I saw them. I have a simple list I always want to get, nothing more.

This week was a bit unusual. I had to pick up extra items for the Christmas party, and I really should have taken a page from my wife’s book and made a proper shopping list. To make things trickier, one of the items I usually buy was relocated to a different section of the store. While searching for it, I got sidetracked and wandered past the cookie display—tempting, to say the least!

I felt a bit disappointed, but then I remembered we still had a bag of chocolate chips and some walnuts left over from other projects. That got me thinking about baking chocolate chip cookies this week. Since I already need to bake for Christmas, I’ll find a way to fit them in. It’ll just take an hour of dedicated time to whip up a batch.

I did learn something valuable, though. Whenever I need to pick up more than the usual items, I should make a shopping list. Even with just a few extra things, there’s always a chance I might forget something for one reason or another.