Is that all there is?
Sometimes I worry that after almost a
year of "leisure" I've become virtually
useless. While the days fly by I'm not
sure that much of what consumes my
time really matters. Then I stop - bitch
slap myself and say... isn't being happy
ALL that matters? And yet once you've
finally reached Nirvana - it's more than
disappointing to realize that happiness
may involve emptying the dishwasher
every morning. Since "retirement" I've
discovered that bliss exists far beyond
Bergdorf Goodman's seventh floor.
Oddly it's the simplest things in life
that seem to make me the happiest.
While I truly don't relish playing
Susie Homemaker on a daily basis
I do treasure the comfort keeping
things tidy. I've slowly slipped into
what some consider a domestic daze.
However I may have finally found
my groove. Every day in my rather
small world everything changes. So
simply watching the sun come up is
more than enough of a thrill prior
to sipping one's first cup of coffee.
Sucking the life out of me?
The fact is the very process of living
is rather time consuming. In the old
days I left the house before dawn and
returned long after sunset. Invariably
we dined out. Hence the house stayed
more than clean between the weekly
ministrations of our mystery maids.
On weekends we ran out and about
and therefore the house really never
got dirty as it really never got used.
Now that we're housebound, one has
to constantly tidy up or soon one's digs
can resemble an episode of Hoarders.
Just do it
I enjoy my role as maintenance
man. Everyday I go through the
paces doing all things domestic.
Mr. Clean is not arriving anytime
soon on his white horse to help.
Therefore it's easier to keep my
stainless fridge door polished on
a daily basis rather than weekly.
Frank's Mother's advice is "Do
a little everyday." What scares
me is that keeping things tidy
devours one's days. In the end -
is a clean house all that matters?
At times I feel guilty for my theoretical
lack of ambition. Over my career I've
proven I can do almost anything when
given the opportunity to do so. Yet what
I'm slowly discovering is that this phase
of my life is all about doing things that
I couldn't do before. Most of my unspent
desires revolved around home. When I
finally unleashed my hidden homebody
I found happiness. And if that's enough
to zing my strings - why can't I merrily
cook and polish my way to a new me?
Or is fulfillment a waste of my time?
My life is nobody's business but mine.
How I opt to fulfill my dreams is all
about me. And as long as I don't have
to earn a living, I'm going to keep on
living. After years of hard work and
sacrifice it's finally my time. I have
family and friends who love me. My
partner is at my side no matter what.
Our home is beyond lovely. Therefore
I'm going to continue to enjoy it all.
If that means doing nothing of any
consequence - then so be it. Now...
I must get back to my dusting...