I want to live simply. 
I’ve written it down in my notebooks, so I must be serious. 
“Live more simply.”
But why do those words keep sounding less like permission to do less, and more like yet one more to-do item on my already too-long to-do list. Why does living simply feel like an uphill battle?
I intended to get up and read before work. I envisioned a slow morning with coffee and Mary Oliver poems. But instead I woke up late and rushed around the house, simultaneously checking my work-email while drinking coffee standing over the kitchen sink. 
After work, I meant to go for a peaceful walk in the woods near my house. But instead I worked an extra hour to meet a deadline, and then felt too tired to want to leave the house. 
I meant to cook a slow, home cooked meal but felt tired and overworked so I rewarded myself with frozen left-overs and silly videos on my phone. Suddenly it was past my midnight, and oh my where did the day go?

And why did none of it feel simple. 
This simple living thing is harder than I thought it would be.