My mother in law and I are both particularly fond of squirrels, the industrious, super cute real kind. She makes allowances for the fact that they steal food from the bird-feeder. I give them a free pass when the chatter incessantly outside our bedroom window. (Last week’s unseasonably warm weather gave them the perfect opportunity to socialize in the middle of the night. More than once I felt happy they couldn’t get in the house and turn on the stereo in the room under our bed like some erstwhile teenagers we used to have. Also, the weather. It’s supposed to take a turn later today. Should I go t the grocery store? Why do people connect bad weather to grocery stores?)  
 
See what happened there?
 
An Invasion of Metaphorical squirrels.
 
Maybe you know them? These are not as cute as real squirrels. They are a complete pain. A late afternoon alert from Insta once entirely derailed me so much that instead of finalizing an important project in the time I’d allotted it, I dialed straight into the chatter of the dastardly little squatters.    [Why haven’t I ever been to Arkansas? There is such a nice museum there? Tom and I said when we were in Venice -we love art and need more art in our lives. Wait. What. When are we going back to Venice?  I wonder how they are doing after the flood. A lot of people helped with clean up. Which reminds me. Australia. The koala bears. I want to help the koala bears. I need to call Tom and see what he thinks about going to Australia to help with the koala bears.] And all this because I allowed the alert into my life, thereby rolling out the red carpet for Rocky and his relatives to bash into my productivity with their tangential, irrelevant messages. 
 
 
We can’t protect myself from everything. But those of us easily distracted by shiny things  can wage war on the alerts flying at us from all directions. Earlier this week, I disabled all notifications on my phone, cleared off my desktop screen (crazy how a clutter of files can suck a person into a dark hole of work unfinished), designated pre-planned times to address email and stayed out of it the rest of the time. And shazam. No squirrel invasions. Miraculous. Really. Plus, easy to do and free.

Research says that it takes about 16 minutes to refocus after being distracted. That’s a lot of time that most of us don’t have.  So here, here to fending off the flying squirrels in 2020. No more free passes. 

Love, Peace, and Eucalyptus- xoxox, LN