I go through phases when I’m at home any length of time. Right now I’ve reached the dreamy phase.
When I’m first confined to barracks, I feel a bit lost and it is hard to establish a new routine.
Then I go through periods of neglect, laziness and generally being a bitch to be around. When I can’t stand myself anymore I immediately leap into strip the apartment to the bones housecleaning, scrub myself till I’m raw, and up and at ’em with living room aerobics 1-2-3, stretch that body, you can do 20 more reps! There, done!
And in between all my moods, I do my creative stuff and the hours and days fly by. I am in bliss!
Admiring everything sparkling and clean, my projects all up to speed and running, my body toning up, I can now relax and start to dream. Dream about what I would have liked the past to have been, what I might like the future to be. The present I can’t do a whole heck of a lot about.
I recreate the past into fanciful stories. Not that my past was bad, in fact, my childhood was idyllic! It is the adult part that sucked. Let’s see that adds up to 40+ years of it. I can do a lot of recreating with that!
The future awaits!
Sell everything and buy a mobile home and explore the land with Sam my cat. I almost did that once. My friend and I had a beautiful little van and we took many trips . . . those were better days.
Maybe go and work at a farm this summer as they are predicting a shortage of workers this year because of the corona virus. Fresh air, sunshine, dreadfully hard labour. Could this old body take the punishment? My mind likes to thinks so, but I’ve had experience with this kind of wishful thinking. It doesn’t end well, for body or mind.
Oh, well, who am I kidding. I’ll just go back to the office once it is opened and begin where it ended, like nothing ever happened.
I don’t have the courage, but mostly, I don’t have the money.
But I can dream!