February 10, 2010
It’s snowing. If you live in the Mid-Atlantic region of the United States, you’re well aware it’s snowing. Last Friday, we had twenty-two inches land on my front porch. Today, five days later, there is an additional eighteen inches out there. I know because I shoveled my front porch last Sunday. Now I’ll have to do it again. No, it does not make me happy. The snow doesn’t make me happy. It has wreaked havoc with my concentration, but what else is new in this New Year?
Being home on a week day is a treat, though. It’s almost like playing hookey. Almost. The fact of the matter is it would have been the height of stupidity to leave the safety of home today.
I’ve always had this fantasy about what my days would be like – WILL BE LIKE – when I officially retire from my day job and I’m home every day of the week. Not long ago it occurred to me I was in the home stretch of my working years. By the time I walk out of my business office, and take up full time residence in my writing office, I will have worked fifty-and-one-half years. If I work until what the government says is my Social Security full benefit age, that is. Whenever I make it to full-time writer status, I’m ready.
In that perfect world, my day begins around six a.m. in a quiet house, and a slowly sipped cup of coffee. If you live with another person(s), you probably have that same appreciation for moments of quiet. If not, this is my fantasy, so stick with me here.
After a leisurely cuppa, I check my email. Since it’s fantasy, I’ve no junk mail to sort through. (You’re with me now, aren’t you?) Email handled, I get a second hit of caffeine, eat breakfast, then put on my writer’s hat for an hour or so, and bang out a chapter. A whole chapter. Without pauses or breaks. The words flow. Fantasy, remember? Once that is done, I join the household for two hours or so, and get lunch out of the way. Then I whip out another complete chapter, after which, it’s a leisurely evening on the veranda.
I really do hope my days will be something like that, but I know they won’t. Like today with the falling snow, there will always be a distraction to enjoy. Part of the fun of living is the distractions, the participation in all those little things I miss working under the umbrella of “making a living.” And while I did get some writing done today, and wish I’d done more, my day was well spent.
Maybe not every day has to be fantasy perfect. Maybe perfect days become boring, like the Weather Channel playing in a loop. Coming into the evening hours, I have a feeling of accomplishment knowing I checked in with a few friends, had some quality time with the spousal and parental units, worked at the writing, and managed a few household chores. Those things left undone do not trouble me.
Perhaps fantasy pales in the face of reality, although one can still dream.
KC Kendricks
http://www.kckendricks.com
Being home on a week day is a treat, though. It’s almost like playing hookey. Almost. The fact of the matter is it would have been the height of stupidity to leave the safety of home today.
I’ve always had this fantasy about what my days would be like – WILL BE LIKE – when I officially retire from my day job and I’m home every day of the week. Not long ago it occurred to me I was in the home stretch of my working years. By the time I walk out of my business office, and take up full time residence in my writing office, I will have worked fifty-and-one-half years. If I work until what the government says is my Social Security full benefit age, that is. Whenever I make it to full-time writer status, I’m ready.
In that perfect world, my day begins around six a.m. in a quiet house, and a slowly sipped cup of coffee. If you live with another person(s), you probably have that same appreciation for moments of quiet. If not, this is my fantasy, so stick with me here.
After a leisurely cuppa, I check my email. Since it’s fantasy, I’ve no junk mail to sort through. (You’re with me now, aren’t you?) Email handled, I get a second hit of caffeine, eat breakfast, then put on my writer’s hat for an hour or so, and bang out a chapter. A whole chapter. Without pauses or breaks. The words flow. Fantasy, remember? Once that is done, I join the household for two hours or so, and get lunch out of the way. Then I whip out another complete chapter, after which, it’s a leisurely evening on the veranda.
I really do hope my days will be something like that, but I know they won’t. Like today with the falling snow, there will always be a distraction to enjoy. Part of the fun of living is the distractions, the participation in all those little things I miss working under the umbrella of “making a living.” And while I did get some writing done today, and wish I’d done more, my day was well spent.
Maybe not every day has to be fantasy perfect. Maybe perfect days become boring, like the Weather Channel playing in a loop. Coming into the evening hours, I have a feeling of accomplishment knowing I checked in with a few friends, had some quality time with the spousal and parental units, worked at the writing, and managed a few household chores. Those things left undone do not trouble me.
Perhaps fantasy pales in the face of reality, although one can still dream.
KC Kendricks
http://www.kckendricks.com
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