Whatever the Hell I Want Day: The Best Days Often Begin Without a Plan

Once upon a time, I gave myself one day a year to dowhatever the hell I wanted.

One day. Out of 365.

And I thought that was quite generous.

In those days I was busy raising two teens, managing ahousehold, holding down a more-than-full-time job, and volunteering at churchand school.

I was a whirling dervish, energy in motion. There werecalendars and elaborate plans and a never-ending pressure to make every momentcount.

However, once my two kids became self-sufficient enough, Iwould, once a year, on January 3^rd, declare a day that I called:“Whatever the hell I want to do day.” This was a day between the holiday frenzyand the back-to-work and school rush, a day I felt I could catch my breath and ignorethe planner for a bit.

On this day, everyone fended for themselves, even if thatmeant eating cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

My self-declared “free days” most often consisted of theluxury of sleeping in past 5:30 am, the luxury of lounging  on the couch with a good read, perhaps a walkif the weather cooperated, and quite possibly an afternoon nap. Mostly it wasabout having absolutely nothing that I HAD to do, no place I HAD to be at, and NOneed to relentlessly watch the clock and meticulously plan out the day.

Looking back, I have fond memories of those days of doingexactly whatever the hell I wanted.

However, what strikes me now isn't what I did on those days.It's that I somehow believed I needed to declare a special holiday to givemyself permission to do nothing.

Looking back with a more critical lens, I ponder why in theworld I only allotted myself one day out of the 365 days of the year formyself.

Decades later, I no longer need to wait until January 3 orlimit myself to one precious day per year.  I've come to understand that unstructured timeisn't wasted time. It's where I find room to breathe, to notice, to wonder, tocreate, and sometimes to do absolutely nothing.

As I mature, I am much less bothered about what others mightthink of me as a “goof-off” or “lollygag” or someone who spends time in theaimless pursuit of joy. In fact, the older I get, the more value I place onthose days when serendipity, rather than productivity, guides me.

I've spent much of my life making lists, setting goals,meeting deadlines, and getting things done. And those skills have served mewell.

But I've also discovered that some of life's sweetestmoments aren't accomplished. They simply unfold.

Which is why this little poem has earned a place on mymirror – reminding me that the best days are often the ones without a grandplan other than enjoying what unfolds.