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0verthinking1t · 2 years ago

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Your task menu for today, sir

It's day 2 of getting my shit back together and infusing life with the structure I need, and the method I came up with and want to share today is called the Task Menu. I was inspired to reformat my to-do list and reminders this way from watching some YouTube videos about the Dopamenu (Dopamine Menu); it's not the same concept, but it helps in a similar way.

Pardon the gross looking piece of clear acrylic board on the random shipping package, that's a tangent for another time. Suffice to say, it is now a whiteboard, because the little magnetic CVS board is not nearly big enough to contain the explosion that is my brain.

So the Task Menu. First off, it's important to me that I write the day of the week at the top, and wipe the entire thing clean at the end of the day, regardless of what I've done or not done. The purpose is to make me more conscious of time and stop the days from all blurring together, so I have to start fresh every day. I decided to use the menu structure from now on instead of just a boring "today's to-do list", because I wanted to focus more on getting to pick the tasks I feel up to accomplishing throughout the day, and less on feeling like I HAVE to or SHOULD be doing the entire list in one go. The menu is a list of options for my day, not a set plan. Sections of my daily task menu include:

Appetizers - the simple, basic tasks I need to be aware of throughout the day. These include things like taking a shower, remembering to eat meals, feeding my hermit crab every 2 days, remembering if I have d&d or social stuff today, etc.

Mains - the closest to the traditional To-Do list. These are the tasks I should really focus up on during the day. Most of them have a fairly low spoons requirement, and I feel they are well attainable on any given day. Examples of mains are things like making important phonecalls, filling out paperwork, sweeping my floor or putting things away, going for a walk, or watering plants.

Specials - the daily specials are like a bonus challenge list. These are higher spoons, more project-like tasks that I have a lot of trouble motivating for. They're the restaurant's famous megaburger you get a gift certificate or T-shirt for finishing in one sitting. My goal is to aim for getting one special done a day, but it's no big deal if it doesn't happen. Examples of Specials are cleaning up my storage drawers, repotting and pruning plants, getting out all the supplies and pumping the creative juices to paint something sellable, having to go out to an appointment or getting ready for a job interview.

Sides - sides are my daily reminders. They're things I have to make sure I hold on to while I'm doing all the other menu stuff, like the fact that I have a D&D game that night, or that I still need to pay rent when I get the chance, or that I have a trip with a friend coming up this month. Because of my struggles with time blindness and object permanence, I often forget things like this until they're right on top of me, get swept up in some hyperfocus of the day, and feel like an ass when I realize I should have been online half an hour ago or that I procrastinated packing until 10pm the night before, or that it's father's day and I really should have called home. It's not that I forgot about the thing itself (I'm well aware that game is on Thursday nights, in theory) but that I forgot to associate that thing with a concrete time and date and keep track (in practice, I forgot that Today is Thursday, and that I shouldn't get sucked in to a cross stitch project an hour before game.)

Along with the daily menu board, I have the bigger Megaboard to pull daily task ideas from and keep track of what I actually accomplish. Here is a master list of tasks and reminders, sorted into "levels" based on spoons requirement. The color coded levels are similar to the Tsp idea I posted about a week or two ago. Level 1, green tasks, are easy, daily repeatable, little things that require almost no effort themselves, but that I just need to be better about structuring and self motivating for. Level 2, red tasks, are those Daily Specials; these are bigger projects to do around the house that require some time and activity energy. They're finite milestones that I can check off and get rid of once they're done. Level 3, black tasks, are the big spoons tasks. The thought of any one of these is overwhelming, and I've put them off for way too long. These require a plan to spend most of the day on them, and should be planned in advance.

Also on the Megaboard is a section labeled "today I accomplished:". Sometimes (a lot of times) life with squirrel brain doesn't always go as planned. I want to acknowledge the menu items I do get done in a day, as well as whatever tasks come up naturally during the day that I wasn't expecting. I might look at my menu and feel bad that I didn't knock a lot off it in a day, but then I can remember that's because I did 3 other things that day that I didn't even know would come up when I wrote it. Just because they're not on the daily to-do list doesn't mean they don't count. I also keep tally marks of the tasks I complete from each color level, just for the dopamine hit of seeing how much I've done at a glance.

It's a lot of writing, rewriting, moving things around, and meticulously planning out the details of my day, but right now, it's helping. I have no daily habits formed at the moment, and I have trouble juggling all these thoughts in my head. If I weren't writing everything down, I'd basically get lost in my own daily doings, and not know how I end up at bedtime every night. I think of this stuff as less of a daunting list of tasks to get done, and more of a helpful guide or set of instructions for being human.

So what do you think of the Task Menu and Megaboard? Do you think it could be improved or streamlined? If you plan to use and adapt this to your own needs, what kind of changes will you make? I'd genuinely love to see outside perspectives on my ideas 😊

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butterflydreaming-writes-fic · 4 years ago

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“And the One Time They Did”

“And the One Time They Did“ by Looks-Clear (that’s me, yo!)

Word Count: about 3,400 Rating: Gen

@sweetness47, here is my gift to you for the Profound Bond Discord gift exchange! I hope you actually find it amusing. This is a “five times plus one time” fic, and since that’s such a well-used trope, I thought it would be funny to title each of the sections with an AO3 tag.

-o-

1. “that trope where it's a relationship told from an outsider's point of view”

The money is good, but the competition for gigs means that you take that delivery order even though it’s to a house way outside of town. Houses are good, though. Around here, that means honeymoon tourists and vacation renters, which might mean a better tip. “J. Page” is waiting for his order from Great Greens, so you pick up the bags from Yolanda’s new salad cafe and head out in your Jeep onto the river road.

The house is secluded on the less popular side of the river, off the narrow road that splits from the main. You don’t even see the black Chevy Impala parked along the side of the house until you’ve driven to the end of the tree-lined driveway. The two-story house is the kind of place you would love to live in if you wanted a lot of privacy. It’s well cared for to attract the short-term renters your town gets all summer. The house has a good roof, freshly painted siding, and healthy potted plants around the door you’re knocking on.

An upstairs window slides open with a thunk. Taking a step away from the door, you look up.

“Oh, hey.” The man leaning out the window has a smile that immediately puts you at ease. The frame catches at his flannel shirt, exposing a flash of skin above his faded jeans. He’s tall, with long hair, and the breadth of his shoulders make you glad you took the delivery job. “Would you mind… there’s a kitchen door at the back of the house. I’ll be down in a sec.” He pulls back in before you can respond.

You hesitate, thinking about the seclusion of the house and potential danger, but your gut tells you it’s OK. Nothing about the house or the classic car gives you that red flag feeling. The sun isn’t down yet. Plus, your holding an order of salads and cheesy rolls, Yolanda knows you’re delivering them and to where, and you can’t imagine it’s the dinner order of a creeper.

Things are a little unexpected when you get to the back door, though. The tall man — and he really is tall, six-four you guess — is pulling the curtain away from the window beside the kitchen door, but the door remains closed. “I have your Great Greens,” you say, lifting your two hands. You glance at the receipt and tell him the total. The food was paid with a credit card. You’re starting to despair about your tip, the line left blank to fill in.

“Great! Thanks. We really appreciate it,” he says, from the other side of the window glass.

There’s a dog door in the house door. The man disappears from the window and the door flap lift up. An envelope flips out. The man appears at the window again.

“If you could, um, put the order through the flap?” he asks.

“You don’t want to open the door?” Gingerly, you poke the dog door inward and push the bags through one at a time. The envelope turns out to have a few bills in it, a nice cash tip. You straighten up again and dust your hands off on your jeans after folding the envelope and tucking it into your pocket.

He laughs. It’s a breathy laugh, embarrassed. He ducks his head. “Can’t,” he says. “We’re, uh, sort of under quarantine.”

A surprised “Oh!” comes out of you before you can stop yourself. You wonder who else is with him in the house.

He’s quick to reassure you. “It’s not contagious. We just can’t leave the house yet.” He gives you one of those quick smiles again. The effective is magnified from being eye level and within three feet of him. You're a little glad there’s a window between you for protection.

“Thanks again,” he says.

“No problem,” you answer. With a small wave, you start back around to the front of the house, and your Jeep, only glancing back for a moment. The tall man is turning toward others entering the kitchen.

Before the curtain closes, you glimpse two other adults. You can hear them plainly through the window. A deep voice is at first excited about the meals. But then, suddenly:

“Sonoffabitch! SAM! What is this? Salad? Where’s the real food!?”

Back at your Jeep, just as a precaution, you rub your hands with the lavender scented hand sanitizer you keep in the glove box.

2. “(in my head the reader is a female but i didnt specify ir anywhere so ye)”

It’s Friday and a busy night, but when you see the delivery request come up for that same address, you take it. This time it’s for burgers from Jen’s Magnificent, which is locally famous for the MegaBurger, a four-patty monster with the works. You’re not surprised when the bags are heavy with three megas, fries and onion rings. What else would anyone order from Jen’s? The name on the credit card slip is “S. Denny.” You are wondering if the hot tall guy knows he’s not getting any veggies that aren’t deep fried.

Of course, you can guess what happened, and when it’s a different man at the front picture window asking you to go around to the back of the house, your guess is confirmed. The one with the deep voice is tall too, not as tall and not as lean, but still with nice muscle structure and also in a flannel shirt. Brothers, probably. You can see some familial resemblance.

As with the first delivery, you meet him at the back window. It’s earlier than last time and still full light out. He’s pretty anxious for the food, bouncing a little on his feet as he waits for you to slide the burger bags through the dog door.

You can’t help yourself. “Where’s the other guy?"

"Which?"

You pass the food through, straighten up and assess him. The cute one. Your brother?”

The man is already into one of the burgers. He shoves it in his face — you can’t take a bite out of a mega, you pretty much have to smash it into your mouth — and the moan he produces is, frankly, pornographic. This is a man who loves juicy meat.

You kind of want to leave him alone to it.

“The cute one," he repeats with a snort. He wipes a napkin across his mouth. "Researching,” he answers you, chewing on a mouthful. “This burger is awesome. Have you had these?”

“Actually, yeah. She makes good shakes, too.”

“This is going on my list of best burger towns,” he states. The burger disappears and when his hands are free, he wipes them on a fresh napkin. “You a local?”

You nod. He asks you a few odd questions about the town, a little bit about the history, and some information about how often tourists come through. You end up talking about your Jeep Renegade and auto maintenance, which helpfully gives you some points to go over with Roxy at the garage.

You’re back an hour later with another delivery from Great Greens, a single kale salad. You’re not surprised. The cute one is happy to see you. That's nice.

3. “Spells in general. Just spells and spells and spells”

You’ve come to think of yourself as their personal delivery person, to be honest, and it’s not only because J. Page aka Sam is a bright spot any time day or night. Feeling bold one evening, you scribble your phone number on the receipt and tell Sam, “If you guys need anything like from the grocery store or whatever, just call me. Anytime is fine.”

You’re snuggled on your couch watching Netflix when you actually get a late night call from Sam. He sounds apologetic and, weirdly, a little drunk. “Hi… Hi!” he greets a little breathlessly. “This might be a lot to ask but if you meant it about the help, I… we need someone on the outside to get these things. They’re going to sound strange, but I can’t explain what they’re for. Is that OK?”

“Does it,” you ask, “have to be right now?”

“Please, yes,” he says, words breathed out like an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know if I can take close quarters with these two past another moon cycle.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, uh. It has to be tonight because of the first quarter.” He names off some flowers, and then tells you the last one has to be picked after midnight and before dawn.

You actually have some of the list in your kitchen, dried, though it's not fresh. “The rest I can get, but I don’t know where to find that,” you tell him.

“Come to the house. It’s in the garden.”

And that’s how you end up picking lemon verbena by flashlight, in a hoodie and pajama pants, while Sam watches you from the kitchen window and points out the plants he needs. He’s glossy-eyed in the way of someone who’s had more booze than a few drinks at dinner, and pushing himself to act sober like someone who was drinking for a reason.

When you hand over the jasmine and vervain, he’s sitting on the floor at the other side of the door. You catch the dog flap on the backswing and hold it open. “Is that enough? I can get the other stuff fresh from Dara’s tea store tomorrow.”

He leans down to see you better through the opening and keeps going until he’s lying sideways on the floor. He seems vaguely surprised that the world has gone horizontal. “This is what I need to get started,” he pronounces carefully. He seems to consider getting upright. Instead, he rolls over onto his back. His hair, long and silky, flops beside his head, except for an errant lock that lays across his forehead. His beard is growing in, and the mountain man thing really works for him. He looks like he might nod off right there, lying on the floor.

“So… what are you doing, casting a love spell or something?”

He groans. “Those idiots activated one. I’m trying to…” he lifts a hand and makes a serpentine gesture in the air with his finger, “wiggle open a loophole. So we can leave. And Dean can stop punching holes in the walls looking for hex bags.” He wakes up more fully and sits up suddenly. Running a hand through his hair, he laughs. There’s a tint of panic to it.

You can see that he’s about to dissemble about what he said, so you cut him off with a change of topic. “I knew the lady that used to live here. When I was a kid, we called it the witch’s house. She had, uh, twenty cats.”

“This is a dog door,” he points out.

“I know, right?” You smirk. “Do you like dogs?”

“I do,” he says without elaboration. “Can you tell me anything else about this house? Past owners?”

He’s sobering up. You answer with a shrug. “I mean. It’s a rental now. As you know, obviously.”

“A lot of strangers come through town? Have you noticed anyone that stands out? People you know, acting out of character? Has anyone been sick with an unexplainable illness?”

“We get summer tourists, mostly.”

“Anyone weird?”

“We are the weirdos, mister.” You ease the door flap closed. “I’ll bring the rest of your list when you guys order dinner tomorrow,” you say. It’s late, and you need to go home.

4. “Destiel are lowkey pining in the background”

Mylene adds in a cellophane bag of shortbread with the pie order. The scents in the bakery make you wish you were taking pie home for yourself, but no, this French Apple, ordered by “John Paul Jones,” is heading to the house you’ve been delivering to all week. On the nights when you don’t have an order, they order pizza delivery, it turns out. Pia, who owns Ristorante Raduno, mentioned it when you were fulfilling your craving for her incredible lasagna. Piggybacking on the pie order is a double side of bacon that you pick up from Dee's diner.

You honk when you pull up to the house, knock at the front door, then walk to the back yard per the usual. The Impala has enough dust on it to dull the black finish, and that strikes you as evidence that they really aren’t leaving the house. It was clear when you where conversing with him that burger guy loves his “Baby”. He wouldn’t let that car languish, getting covered in tree leaves and windblown dirt.

“You must be Mr. Jones,” you say to the new face at the kitchen window. “Are there any more of you in there or is three your crowd?”

“You’ve met the other two,” he says. He doesn’t exactly smile, but his eyes are kind, deep blue and full of unspoken thoughts. He has a voice like someone after a night of loud singing and drinking. It doesn’t match his appearance. Not with the suit ensemble including the trench coat he is inexplicably wearing indoors.

“I guess pie and bacon is your thing?” you ask, covering a laugh, and pop the bakery box through the dog door. He takes the box once it has passed the threshold. "Whatever makes you happy." You hear his “thank you” before the dog door swings closed.

“The pie is for —” he catches himself. “Sandy.” He was about to say a name that started with D, you’re sure of it. Dean, you recall, from Sam’s slip up. “He likes pie. And bacon.” He stares at the pie as if it is about to impart hidden wisdom. "It makes him happy."

Your tip was included when the bakery was paid, so you don’t have a reason to linger, but you do anyway, curious. “This lockdown is hitting him hard, isn’t it? Not being able to take his car out for a drive?”

He gives a helpless little micro-shrug, but concern shows on his face. You think you see some guilt there, too. What had Sam said about it, that “those idiots” had activated the spell?

“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but…” you hesitate, just for a minute. “Pie is good and all, and that pie is really good, but words are good, too?” His piercing attention actually makes you take a step back. You break eye contact, kicking the brick paving at your feet with the toe of your shoe. “Saying your feelings instead of, um, eating them?” You’ve probably blown it, so you scram without a backward look.

5. “Pray for Sam”

You glare at your phone until you wake up enough to recognize the text as Sam’s. Then you stare at it, trying to make sense of what it says. Meet him? The coffee hut he’s talking about is at the edge of town. It’s the one thing open at this time of day, since Tena is one of those disgusting morning people.

When you get there, you see that Sam is one of those disgusting morning people, too. His hair may have been tied back during his run, but now it’s loose. The sweaty and wild thing works for him even better than the mountain man look. He’s shaved the beard. You hop out of the Jeep and stroll up to where he is doing some stretches. He straightens up and shakes the hair out of his face.

“You’re out of quarantine,” you say.

He answers your smile with his own. His eyebrows go up when he smiles. “You helped. With those herbs you picked, and everything else. I wanted to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you formally reply. “I notice you got out of that house as early as possible this morning.”

When he rolls his eyes, you have your confirmation. “Ha ha, yeah,” he answers. “Gotta, you know, have some space. From the lovebirds,” he adds with a sound that is part relief and part exasperation.

“Are you getting coffee?”

“I’m picking some up to take back,” he says. “No rush on that.”

“Tena makes a mean superfood smoothie.” You gesture at the espresso hut. “Would you like to get smoothies, go sit by the river, and watch the ducks? Until you’re ready to head back to the house?”

6. “If you think this has a happy ending... you're right well done you”

You figure, that’s it, good-bye, they’re gone, the three that were trapped by the spell on the house. Either Sam figured out how to loosen the spell long enough for them to exit, or burger guy and pie guy hooked up and completed the spell’s requirement. You couldn’t exactly talk about it with Sam, while you sat by the water and drank your breakfast smoothies. You’re pretty sure that he knows you were giving them hints, really vague hints but still hints, but it’s not like you could ask if he knows, even now that the spell is broken.

They’re not gone yet, as you find out when Kitty from the General Store asks you to run a delivery out to the house. You stop by the General Store to pick up the bag. It’s heavy with an assortment of stuff indicating wall repair: sandpaper, drywall patch kits, a paint tray and paint roller. They’ve paid with a credit card again, a tip included.

You text Sam to let him know you’re the one bringing their supplies, and ask if they need anything else, which is how you end picking up another pie and a trio of sandwiches. When you get to the house, you see that all the windows and doors are open. Sam is sitting in the Impala with his long legs sprawling out of the open car door. He puts down a book when he sees you get out of your Jeep.

“Let me get that. Must be heavy, sorry,” he says.

“Could be worse. Megaburgers, or cans of paint.”

His hair slides over his ears as he shakes his head. “My brother found paint in the attic, at least.”

“I’m glad this is ending with some DIY, instead of you burning the place down or something,” you say without thinking. “It’s usually newlyweds that stay here. We’re a quiet community.”

He gives you an assessing look.

You hand him the bag from the hardware store. You hand him the food, too, before he steps into the house. You hate to see him go, but watching him walk away? That’s worth the price of admission.

He yells up the stairs that food has arrived. In a minute, the other two guys come down, both suspiciously dusty on their backsides and elbows, both looking stupidly happy. Dean puts his arm around his sweetheart’s waist. Pie guy leans in and blesses Dean with a soft kiss. Pie guy must be Castiel, the angel.

The infamous Winchesters. As hunters go, they don’t seem all that bad.

Like every other kid that grew up in your town, you know how the house spell works. The couples that honeymoon here don’t even notice when they get locked in, and they usually break the spell within minutes with their easy “I love you”s. Castiel and Dean were in love but must not have said the words to each other, yet, when they entered the house, and Sam was caught as a bystander.

You slip away before they catch you watching, get in your Renegade, and head out to the main road. At first, it had seemed like everyone’s bad luck, that some travel blogger had written about the weird little house in an idyllic riverside tourist town, and that particular trio had come to check it out. Your town has been a quiet haven for witches since before you were born.

In the end, it turned out OK. Better than OK. Who doesn’t like a happily ever after?

-o-

#profound bond gift exchange: quarantine & chill #pbgiftexchange #profoundnet #sam winchester/reader #supernatural #destiel #fluff #5+1 things

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