It's 8:27 in this time zone. Since I awakened, I fed the fire, fed the cat, took a shower, cleaned the kitchen, watered my plants, bestirred Teenthing2 and got him off to school, let animals in and out of the house, schlumped through the snow to the garage and took both cars out of the garage because he was running late, wrestled the broken garage door shut, pulled in five sledloads of wood, including two loads of birches up by the garage, trying to stay out of the sled's way as I pulled it down the hill to the house, and not lose it on the corner so that kept going down the hill past the house and get stuck in the trees, watered the dog, and fed the fire again and shut it down for the day. I'm pretty sure there was more, but I can't remember what it was. Before I leave I have to medicate the dog, put her don't-lick-the-sutures collar on, and block off the stairs so she doesn't fall down the stairs wearing that collar.
Then it will be time to go to work.
I remember hearing a couple of giddy young soccer moms talking to each other (at a soccer game, that's how I knew) and saying, "Let's take a kick-boxing class togther! Wouldn't that be fun! Just to have something to do!" I've never forgotten that, or feeling so completely, utterly befuddled about what that would be like to have to look for something to do.
That's what I think I'd like. Not the kickboxing, but the feeling of just having everything done, and the repose of leisure to simply do anything or nothing. To drink a cup of tea, or walk on the beach, or play my violin/guitar/flute/dulcimer/whatever else is laying around here that needs playing, sing, paint, draw, and not feel "the always coming on, the always rising of the night".
Gotta fly! Fabulous Thursday, everyone. Weekends coming!
