I know that you have some; in fact you probably have a lot of it. It's hidden in the back of your closet, stored in a box in the garage, but you have it. Since my late wife died in 2007 I have had to sift through lots of it and recently I was reminded again that our lives are filled with it.
Parked in front of the garage is my 19 foot self-contained Nash trailer. We bought it slightly used from some friends in 1995. They had purchased it new that spring and towed it to Livingston from Mesa, Arizona. I don't remember the exact reason that they decided to sell it but they knew that my wife and I were looking for one and they offered it to us. From the summer of 1995 until the autumn of 2006 it was our home away from home on many weekends and summer vacations. We never hauled it very far, just from our home in Livingston to a campground on Quake Lake just outside of West Yellowstone. After cancer took her left leg in 1997 we would camp out at the lake and take our canoe out on the lake each morning. Even though she could no longer hike like we did years before she could still use a canoe paddle.
The last two weeks of August in 2006 was the last time we took the trailer down to the lake. We brought the trailer home and I winterized it like I had each previous year anticipating that we would use it again next summer. However it was not to be, and since that time it has set where I parked it the last time. I hadn't realized until I started to clean it out this spring that I had been intentionally procrastinating about taking the stuff out of it.
There was the normally stuff; dishes, silverware, bedding, and other miscellaneous stuff. Then there was the box, a box filled with rocks. Each one was carefully wrapped in newspaper; a collection of oddly shaped rocks collected over the years from a small beach along the south shore of Quake Lake. Sometime she was going to make a water fountain with them by arranging them so that water would run over them in a cascade. They were 'sometime stuff.'
After her death I had intended to put them in the canoe and take them back to the beach where she had collected them. To date I have never been back there and it's unlikely that I ever will, so this box of rocks has become another box of sometime stuff. To anyone but me it was just a box of rocks. Taken out of context this box filled with rocks wrapped in newspaper would be meaningless to anyone but me.
How much 'sometime stuff' do you have? I know that you have a project somewhere, something that you have planned on doing 'sometime,' a fly rod that you have intended to refinish, some flies that you intended to tie. Again, if you're like me you have lots of 'sometime stuff.' Don't wait for 'sometime' to use it, because it's quite possible that 'sometime' will never come. Today is the 'sometime' that you have been saving it for.