There was a time that I wondered WHAT on Earth people did when they didn’t go to work every day. Could there really be enough at home to keep them busy all day long? Maybe little projects and make-busy work? I left the corporate life in 1994. Done. Gonezo.
I can never, ever remember being bored since then. Is it my personality or is there really that much to do? I can tell you my TO DO list never runs out; I have notebooks filled with them. There is inside work, outside work, cerebral work, hand work. There are bills to pay, letters to write, emails to answer. Windows to wash, dinners to make, sheets to change, laundry to wash. All tasks are not created equal in terms of urgency or pleasure. In the laundry room, there is a neat stack of clothes in a wire basket. The pile includes clothes to return to stores, clothes to be mended and clothes to be ironed. There is a method to my madness, and, admittedly, some madness to my method. Never-the-less, my days seem to be chock full of chores and projects and things that nobody else has time to do. It is the time of year for screens to come in, for bulbs to go out, for Thanksgiving decorations to find their way to tables and baskets. I can remember my son saying, “I wish I could stay home like you do, Mom.” I asked,”Why is that?” He said, “You may have to work all day, but you can decide what you want to do, at least. At school, THEY decide my schedule and what I have to study when I get home. I would prefer to do what you do than having someone tell me what to do. I can tell you right now, I am going to work for myself when I a grow up.” How do I explain to him that I must carve time out of my day to do work for myself? When I write....when I write, I am answering a higher calling. When I write, it is not work at all.