Things Worth Our Attention

A social media fast check-in

It’s been nearly two weeks since my last glimpse at Facebook or Instagram, and you know what? I don’t miss it at all.

Sure, there was a time or two my husband said something unintentionally funny that I would normally have put on my personal Facebook profile so others could laugh at him along with us. But not putting it on Facebook didn’t make it less funny.

And there was a sunset I probably would have posted (despite the colors not coming through as true and brilliant) and a couple projects in the backyard I could have posted about. But the sunset was better without social media (because my attention wasn’t divided between it and what I decided to write about it) and the projects you’re going to hear about (and see) anyway because I’m going to be posting about them later in the spring once the yard looks a bit more green and inviting.

And all those slivers of time I previously filled with scrolling? I’m using them in far more productive and satisfying ways.

While I wait for the water to heat for my morning pour-over, I tidy the kitchen, water plants, empty the dishwasher, or fill the birdfeeders.

As I listen to records, I’m not tempted to divide my attention by also looking up stuff about the artist (which inevitably turns to scrolling).

When a creaky old database takes time to load for my 9-to-5 job, I don’t pick up my phone to pass the time (because, really, it’s only a matter 15-20 seconds I’m waiting). Instead, I glance back over my inbox to see if there’s anything I can delete.

And what am I doing with other time I might have wasted on my phone? Well, I’ve been writing. I planned out the second half of the novel I’ve been working on (a step that nearly always breathes new life and momentum into the writing process) and I’ve been writing forward, about a half to a full scene at a time. I can envision the complete story and I know where I’m going, though it may take me a little longer to get there than I originally hoped with all of the time that is being eaten up this spring.

All in all, so far I have no regrets and no compelling reason to return to my Facebook or Instagram author accounts.

As for my personal profile, I almost certainly will keep that in order to get back onto Facebook Marketplace to find cheap or free items needed for the yard and gardens.

But in the meantime, I’m really happy with my decision and I recommend it to all of you.

In other news, the first signs of the tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils I planted last fall are appearing. I’ve started some flower, herb, and vegetable seeds inside and many of them have germinated. Tiny green leaves on flexible white necks are pulling themselves out of the dirt and stretching toward the light. As the weather outside swings from the 30s to the 70s and back in a matter of a day or two, I think of steadier weather ahead and many hours in the garden. (T.S. Eliot clearly never experienced March in Michigan, or he would not have claimed that April was the cruelest month—though the title of the poem in which that line occurs is certainly an apt description).

This past weekend was warm and windy. I visited my mother and we talked about our upcoming trip to Scotland. I think I’ve gotten all the input I’m going to get from her and from my sister and now it is my job to make decisions and reservations and itineraries.

Sunday was the anniversary of my dad’s MRI, the one that showed us the mass that was causing his speech, reading, and writing problems. Wednesday will be the anniversary of his surgery and the beginning of a countdown we hoped would be longer than it turned out to be.

Dad never planned on coming on our trip to Scotland—he was never one to travel very far. But there is still some level of melancholy when I think of our little feminine trio making that trip and not sharing stories from it with him upon our return. Then I think about that far country to which he has traveled ahead of us. Is he banking up stories to tell us when we get there?

I like to think so. Because he was one of the best storytellers I have ever known.