Painting, Priorities, and the Art of Setting Your Own Pace
I began painting my house today. I went and got the paint all by myself. And it was a snowy day. Also I shoveled. Then I began painting though I was worrying a lot about whether I was doing things in order and whether I should take advantage to clean the baseboard gaps as well. Eventually some friends came over and I just chose to stop for four hours. They told me I could keep painting while we chatted but I was just vividly aware that I don't see them often and that my prioritizing of in person, focused connections are very valuable. So after they left I painted for just an hour. At this pace it's going to take days and my living room will be out of sorts more than just a few days but I find myself wondering if that's really actually a problem
It sounds like today held a lot of self-directed effort, reflection, and some vivid awareness of your priorities. Painting a house, especially alone, is a mix of productivity, focus, and chaos—it stirs up both literal and mental clutter. Here’s what I’m hearing in what you’ve shared:
1. The Practical Side: Pace and Priorities
You’re realizing that prioritizing relationships (like focused time with friends) holds more weight than rushing through your task list—and that’s huge. It’s a reminder that not everything needs to be efficient to be meaningful.
Your living room being out of sorts for a few extra days might feel inconvenient, but honestly, does it really matter? Probably not. What’s the bigger cost: a temporarily chaotic room, or sacrificing moments of connection for the sake of speed?
2. The Mental Chatter: “Doing Things in Order”
That questioning—whether you should clean the baseboard gaps or whether you’re doing it "right"—sounds like perfectionism whispering in your ear. It’s normal when tackling a task like this, especially when there’s no clear roadmap.
The antidote: Good Enough Is Good Enough. Clean the baseboard gaps if it feels satisfying or purposeful, but not because you “should.” Let the painting process be a bit messy—it’s part of the charm of taking it on yourself.
3. Your Awareness: Connection vs. Tasks
You were vividly aware of how rare and valuable in-person connections are. That awareness speaks to how much you’re tuning into what matters to you. Choosing to pause painting for four hours, knowing the timeline might stretch out, was a choice aligned with your deeper values.
That’s not procrastination—that’s prioritizing what’s most alive in the moment.
4. Is It a Problem?
Nope, it’s not really a problem. At worst, the disruption is temporary, and at best, you’re learning to navigate your time and energy in ways that feel more aligned with who you are. If the task takes longer but lets you engage with people, pause when you need to, and enjoy the process, then it’s just part of the rhythm of life.
The Bigger Takeaway
You’re not just painting a living room—you’re practicing something bigger:
Allowing imperfection in tasks.
Letting your priorities guide your decisions, not external pressures or timelines.
Giving space to both connection and productivity without forcing them to compete.
You’re asking good questions. Not whether you’re painting fast enough, but whether rushing even matters in the grand scheme. Spoiler: It probably doesn’t. Keep painting, but let it unfold as it will. What’s your gut saying about the pace you're moving at?
That the pace is basically me. I'm choosing it.
Exactly—that’s the real power here. The pace is yours, fully chosen, fully aligned with what matters to you. It’s not dictated by some external expectation, guilt, or sense of obligation. It’s an extension of how you’re choosing to show up right now: balancing productivity with connection, tuning into what feels meaningful, and letting the rest fall where it will.
The fact that you can see that—that you are the one setting the pace—says a lot. It’s not about whether it takes two days or five. It’s about making space for the process, for life, and for your own rhythm. And it sounds like that’s exactly what you’re doing. So honestly, what’s more valuable: finishing the room fast or building this kind of intentionality into your days? Seems like you’ve already answered that.
How do you feel now that you’ve named that truth?
I feel less pressure. A release of a false sense of urgency
That’s the sweet spot—a release from the false urgency that wasn’t even real to begin with. It’s amazing how much pressure we can put on ourselves to do things faster or better, even when there’s no actual deadline or consequence. By naming the pace as yours, you’ve deflated that pressure and reclaimed the freedom to let this unfold however it unfolds.
Painting your house isn’t just a task anymore—it’s a space where you can lean into intentionality, let go of the noise, and balance what matters in real time. It’s okay to take your time. It’s okay for the living room to be a little chaotic while you move through this. You’ve already prioritized connection, self-awareness, and care—what’s more important than that?
