When my eyeballs first see the light of day, there’s nothing more I want to want than to throw on some athletic wear (something functional and cute, not that they’re mutually exclusive, but I want to get that in there in case I ever start wanting to want this) and go for a brisk walk. I’ve had between three and 11 hours of sleep most nights, so what’s stopping me? My husband does it, and he looks athletic and cute at 6:00 a.m. Do you know what I want to do when I wake up? I want to drink a mug of strong black coffee, play Wordle, and look at my cats. Period.
Some additional “want to want” include:
Read classics like Moby Dick and The Grapes of Wrath
I’m a reader—I just tallied 40 books this year alone, but I’m more into David Sedaris and Samantha Irby. Plus, I always have a self-help book on the go and a sometimes probably not-written-by-Hemingway novel. Am I a simpleton because I haven’t cracked The Old Man and the Sea? I want to want to crack it.
Draw, but less bowl-of-fruit-y and more comic-y.
I like to be good at something IMMEDIATELY, and I’ll only enthusiastically practice if I genuinely want to learn the skill. I want to want to draw because it’d be hella cool to create Texts from Mittens comics. I’m jealous of those who can write and draw. Did they learn both, or did they pop out of the womb hogging all the creativity?
I held myself accountable by posting my weekly “Learning to Draw Mittens” on my Mittens Patreon page. (Yes, this information is relevant to my story, but I’m also planting it into your subconscious if you’d like to support my work by Patreon. But the subconscious part doesn’t work if I tell you I’m planting it. I don’t want to be a magician, so I get a pass.) I figured I’d be motivated if others could see my progress, but I loathe picking up that sketchpad. I spend the bare minimum time practicing and only continue because I said I would. Whyyyyy???? I want to stop doing that, and I will. You read it here first.
Play the ukulele.
When I became a single lady again in 2016, I wanted to learn a musical instrument. A neighbor was selling his uke, so I thought, “What the hell?” I had fun learning the basics and regularly practiced. Another one of my neighbors played (way better than I did), so I had a buddy. I even performed a mini-concert for my friends featuring T. Swift’s “Shake It Off ” and other timeless classics. But once I had to move on to more complex strumming patterns, I didn’t want to play anymore. My poor neglected ukulele now sits on a tiny (adorable) stand, staring at me, wishing I’d learn something new, but I just stare back, uninspired. Sorry, old friend. I want to want to.
Be proficient in a second language.
I’m on a 544-day streak on Duolingo, even with that diabolical owl mascot shaming me at every turn. I spent one year learning French and despised it. I enjoyed saying I was learning the language of love, and I remember a few things, all of which I cannot recall at this moment.
I moved on to Spanish and had a step ahead due to my kids’ years at a Spanish immersion school. Yes, this has been easier, and I can read the language better, but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to pick up Moby Dick en español. I’m working on it daily, but I don’t want to. I do it because I’m no quitter . . . except with all things concerning ukuleles and drawing.
Hear me out. I’m not a lazy slob who only wants to sit around and look at my cats ALL DAY, so here are some things I like and want to do.
- Well, look at my cats. (We’ll get that one out of the way because it is a TRUTH.)
- Make homemade soups and stews. I made one of my favorites last night; I dream about this stew.
- Write. I look forward to developing Mittens storylines and writing essays. I feel most satisfied writing with humor and heart, but I like a well-placed fart joke, too.
- Sit under a cozy blanket and watch Mary Tyler Moore, Gilmore Girls, and Love is Blind.
- Go to the movies and eat Junior Mints and popcorn with real butter.
- Drink coffee and Prosecco (not together, but I’m not here to judge anyone who does)
- Be ridiculously silly with my husband in public. I gave my heart to a man who would place a finger over the H in a HASS AVOCADO sign in the grocery store and then pose for a photo.
- Gaze at photos of rabbits and drawings of old-timey bunnies wearing clothes and doing people things. Beatrix Potter was a badass boss.
- Go to concerts and dance without my knees paying for it.
- Read all the memoirs, especially those of people with challenging childhoods who turned it around and found humor, because I relate to that.
- Choose my next Dansko shoe purchase and figure out how long it will take me to afford it. I’d love to have these by spring; as of this writing, they’re a whole 4% off! Way to tease, Zappos.
- Celebrate the glory and neverending cuteness of Dansko shoes (I mean, look at these) while simultaneously cursing my hopelessly flat feet and Morton’s Neuroma.
Listen, I know that you can turn anything into a habit. I’ve read James Clear and seen the cheesy inspirational posters. But shouldn’t life feel enjoyable to the individual living it? There’s probably a healthy compromise, but I’ll tell you something certain: The sketchpad is dead to me.
P.S. Have you considered securing the 2025 Texts from Mittens daily desk calendar? I promise I did no illustrations.
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