Yesterday, I had several errands to run.

None of them took a lot of time, but they were situated such that there were just small bits of time around each one, and it was difficult to get any work done. I managed a few stitches here and there, but I really needed to be able to spread out all of my African flower hexagons-to-be and decide which colors would go where.

Today, I got up with the best of intentions. I was going to get to work on my crochet, and I was going to get so many things done to make up for all that I didn’t do yesterday.

I started a pot of coffee, and when I was ready to pour myself a cup, I opened my refrigerator to get the half-and-half, and in that moment, I found myself seeing the world through my grandmother’s eyes, and as much as I wanted to crochet, I felt more compelled to de-grossify my refrigerator.

As I sorted through things, checking for expiration dates, I took some solace in the fact that none of the expired items were old enough for kindergarten, but the progress was slow. I had several jars of oil that I had put in the refrigerator to be dealt with at another time, and it would seem that today was that “another time.”

Cleaning the refrigerator led to cleaning other things. I swept up dog hair, took trash and recycling out to their respective bins, washed two loads of laundry.

Before I knew it, the entire morning and a good portion of the afternoon had disappeared.

So it was with a sense of urgency that I got out my yarn and my hooks and my African flower hexagons-to-be in need of a fourth round and set to work.

I resorted to the tactics I employ to keep myself on track when I am working on my state fair projects and set a timer and checked my progress every 15 minutes, and then, as six o’clock neared, I finally completed the fourth round on all of the hexagons-to-be:

and I even managed to finish three of the twelve pentagons:

Feeling a need to make up for yesterday’s lack of progress, I got out my bent-tipped yarn needle and feverishly wove in ends, and sooner than I would have expected, I had them all done:

By now, my dog Clooney really wanted to go for his walk, and I was almost ready, but not quite. I assured him that after I wove in just two more ends — just two — we could go. So I grabbed these jellyfish in waiting, wove in the center ends and called it day for my crochet:

I never get done everything I want to in a day, but I have learned to take joy in my progress, however modest, and revel in moving forward, one stitch at a time.