Sleep is the second most important thing. If you can't sleep, leave your warm bed and make tea in a beautiful teacup. Mine has a chickadee on it. You don't have to drink the tea, but hold the warm cup in both hands with your eyes closed. This is a teacup, and tea, and a chickadee, doing their work. Feel your eyelids flicker, and look for the moments between the flickers.
Sisters are the second most important thing. If they are mid-west conservatives, send notecards often. Watercolors of dogs are good, as are flowers. Stay away from wild iris. Practice your signature so that it is neat and flowing, and slightly smaller than the part that reads, Dear Marie, I hope you are well. Write what truth you can.
A clean house is the second most important thing. Play Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D Major. Plan your work so that by the time you get to the allegro in the third movement, you will be cleaning your pine floors. Do this on a sunny day, and the pine will shine gold. Do it barefoot.
The world is big. Be small. Think of your feet, the ten toes, the heels, all those parts. Feel your feet bearing your small weight. Move your attention to the floor, to that finite amount of clean pine beneath your feet. Feel the floor doing its work, bearing your small weight.
Treat yourself as if you are someone you love.
Be simple about it.
Don't worry about the most important thing.