Somehow, somewhere, I don’t know how, but I managed to squirrel away 3 hours of me time in the house.
Whenever these moments happen I walk around the house, do the basics (get coffee because I’ve only had one cup so far, get a snack, take care of dogs…etc) then, when that’s all done in 10 minutes I sit down at my computer to stare.
Never fails, takes me about 10 minutes to jump-start my brain out of the shock of being alone. Then it takes me an additional 30 minutes to choose what the hell am I going to do with these extra hours.Sure, I have a list of things that have to get done, a list of things I want to get done, and a list of things to do when I decide to be lazy from working and from the house ….
So which list do I look at????
Unfortunately, the lazy list doesn’t apply because I don’t have the kid in question I normally do at this time to help me be lazy, which isn’t really laziness because I’m spending it playing with my son. A worthwhile endeavor, but hard to say as productive when I still have to clean off my desk, clean the living room, put away DVDs, put away dishes from the dishwasher….well, you get the point.
After those 40 minutes I somehow manage to choose, you guessed it, writing. Why? Because I don’t have so said child coming up to me every 10 to 30 minutes asking for food, drink, or some other thing. Not to say I find it annoying…usually I don’t because it gives me the excuse I need to take a break. As for the cleaning around the house, well, doing that with my son in tow helps because he loves trying to help or being in the same room to talk. Makes cleaning easier… usually.
I don’t want or need to do any business which is a combination of YAY and Crap…but since I just left a job interview and have been scheduled for a second one even before I left, I’m not that vexed as I usually am after interviews.
Yet I have to pause before I start editing Life Without Parole to ask…when did I get to the point that free time seems to be such an anomaly? Was it the birth of my first child? When I left the military? Or was it when I got married and said the fateful words I Do?
Not sure, maybe one day I’ll figure it out, but then, if I get the job then I’ll receive even less free time….
Cue depression writing – check!