I really do not understand the science of it: When you are working full time and perhaps raising a family, tending the home, coordinating everyone's life, volunteering, cooking -- the usual stuff, you think about retirement as liberation. As a portal to all those leisure activities you haven't had time for, but would so love to savor. Because absent a job and perhaps raising kids, what else is there to do? It'll be an era of indulgence (you think). Finally, you can plan your day around, oh, I don't know -- playing golf or learning how to make pasta the Italian way.
As I write this, I'm glancing at the clock: how can it be 1 p.m. already?! In an hour I have to go to pick up Sparrow (and then Snowdrop), and I've done nothing of value. And yet -- I've been so damn busy that I can almost feel the sweat, despite the fact that it's well below freezing today (and tomorrow, and the next day, and the next week, and the week after...)
Of course, I've taken on these projects: Henry fills the time in the morning between 6:30 and 9:30 (at which point I take him to doggie daycare). The walk, our breakfasts, our couch time...
It's quite special for me, for him too I hope...
(Henry, you do not need to protect me from the children getting on the school bus...)
(ready to go back home?)
... nevertheless it's a chunk of time, and I suppose I should add to that the time I took to return the purchased dog booties -- a really dumb idea for him, he looked ridiculous and was sure to lose them in the deep snow on his first walk. And packaged and shipped off all those doggie sweaters that were too small. Then there's the birding project: I upped the ante today by adding plant life to the balcony with a shiny bauble no less to attract birds. (So far, none of this has worked.)
And of course, there are spiraling tasks indirectly resulting from having Henry and feeding birds. I was in a plant store, picking up some evergreens for the balcony (realizing I could have just snipped some at the farmette, but oh well) and while there, I fell in love with a cyclamen plant. This one:
They are inexpensive and the one I had at the farmhouse was small and pot bound and yet it bloomed nonstop, regardless of the care it received, or lack thereof, and I thought wouldn't it be nice to have one at the Edge as well. Right under the TV, where there's plenty of free space and lots of sunshine. Only after bringing it home did I remember to check if a cyclamen is toxic for dogs. And indeed it is very toxic. So then I checked every single plant in the apartment and spent a good while rearranging them so that none of the killers would be within Henry's reach. Our cats at the farmhouse knew to avoid plants that would harm them. I'm not sure Henry has those kinds of street smarts and I'd rather not find out.
Each year, sooner or later I break down and pick up a poinsettia for the table. I did that today. I know these are very toxic as well, but they are the best source of lovely color (especially the ones that are not just plain red) in the winter and they will bloom away until you've had enough of them and toss them in the compost pile. Sorry, poinsettia -- you get a few months, okay?
Yes, there was also a quick run to the grocery store -- oh, let me not list all those boring errands that filled my morning hours. The point is, there will always be tasks and errands. And they will fill your time. And no, I don't know how it is that I managed errands and a job and kids etc in the past, but right now, it does feel like life has not slowed down. Maybe a free hour will emerge tonight so that I can finish my puzzle, but maybe it wont, because, well, Henry may want to play. Or walk. Or destroy the Advent calendar for good.
Okay, time to pick up les enfants.
(not sure why he has shoes on his hands...)
(wearing mom's shoes, mom's coat...)
They haven't been here to play since last week, so it's quite nice to fall back into our routines. But, too, I know they are tired. Late nights, early mornings -- it's a killer combination when you are seven and ten.
They spend a while on their advent calendars.
We pick up Henry. They go home. My pooch comes back with me.
At the Edge, he zips straight to his calendar of course. Ha! No treat behind door no.5. It's a toy day. He accepts his fate, because he is that kind of a dog.
I smile. It's been a good day. And yes, I managed to put the last pieces into the useless but fun holiday puzzle.
with so much love...
