Working for the Weekend

Work is a relative term. We all work, every day, all day, unless we are lucky enough to be coddled some how. I finished work last Friday (contractually selling my time), but have worked more, harder, and longer days since I stopped working. Wood piles grew, various small multi hour projects have been put to bed, parts ordered to put a few more down as historical.

My timing was not the wisest; accepting work from May through August. Sometimes we do what we enjoy, catches our interest, or feels right at the time. There is much catching up to do here. Much winter preparation now that the change is in the air. Three aspens are now yellowing, an act that seemingly occurred overnight.

Today is another full day. The countertop is scattered with post it notes. I do not feel it is a sign of aging, but perhaps it is. I find it a not only a helpful list of tasks to choose from, there is much satisfaction in removing a note, crumbling it up and tossing it away – the task, the chore, the work, complete. Done, finished, and time for the next one.

There is a connectedness to living your day this way versus the four months I stared at a screen, joined meetings, and got paid to tell people what I thought. (Any wonder I’m single?) A strange shift it is, but I would rather use my body, touch my house, my tools, think through physical issues now having a life with thirty five years making money screen-based. I shall leave the screen now and enjoy a day of physical labor. Enjoy yours, whatever it may be.