I assess what needs to be done. The plants need to be watered, and I need to do enough laundry so I can pack for a weekend away. But the rest, the dirty bathroom mirrors, the dusty fan blades, the finger prints on glass doors, that can all wait because I would so much rather spend the afternoon with my sisters and kids at the beach doing all the ordinary things we do, and have done, and will do again, over and over for years. I would so much rather get my own skin sticky and sandy than I would like get rid of the sticky, sandy messes hidden around my house.
I never regret the hours spent out doors, watching my kids clamber over fallen logs, bury each other in sand, and make mud pies. I never worry that those days were wasted.