I like being busy. That’s a good thing, lest I’d be overwhelmed, I suppose. But there’s busy-busy and there’s productive-busy; my busy of late has been, mostly, busy-busy. I prefer productive-busy. Yet busy-busy is better than sedate and bored. I may have, or make, opportunities for productive-busy.
The agenda for today includes a visit to the recycling center (productive-busy), a visit to the Garland County Library to listen to a mystery author speak about his craft (combo-busy), and then attendance at the Woodlands Auditorium Concert Series this evening (busy-busy).
Tomorrow, we’ll spend part of the day…perhaps all day…on the Round About Artists’ Studio Tour (busy-busy). Then, on Sunday, our next door neighbors are taking us out on their pontoon boat, followed by drinks at their place (busy-busy).
Sometime in the near-term I have to get productive-busy in the form of rewriting two chapters of two potential novels, both of which were castigated (rightly so) by members of my writing critique group yesterday afternoon. And I have to plan for and practice my 20-minute poetry reading for next month (I consider this productive-busy).
In between all this I attend my pottery class (combo-busy) and my woodworking breakfast, followed by “making sawdust,” (combo-busy).
And, in between all of this busyness, the normal routines of life must be undertaken…cooking, cleaning, errands, mail, post office, new carpet for the covered porch, ad infinitum.
Amidst all these commitments, I not-so-occasionally want to have peaceful time to myself to do absolutely nothing. That’s the time I write this blog. It’s now 4:50 a.m. I’ve been up since 3:50 a.m. It would be nice to have that peaceful time, every so often, when there is sunlight outside.
I am not complaining; not in the least. I am about as in-control of my time as I’ve ever been and I am enjoying that control immensely. More than immensely. Vastly. Even hugely. Gigantically. Enormously, as well.
