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Things Left Undone
Jul. 10th, 2010 09:00 amIt's morning. I've done a couple of hours of dishes; have another one left. Laundry needs to go in. Music is playing; Angus just left a couple of hours ago for the weekend.
I'm savouring having space to myself. When I'm alone in my home something in me unfolds to fill every bit of airspace, no matter what I'm doing. It's not a matter of who's in the space, or what they're doing, or what I'm doing. It's not a matter of relaxing, or anything really.
It's been quite awhile since I had this space last. I'm supposed to be meeting up with Derek for breakfast and then Lee for the rest of the day; I was really wanting to go to Wreck Beach Butoh. Now, though- here I am, and I am reluctant to leave. I will get bored of housework after a couple of hours, and I would regret missing out on Derek's company, but...
And the house really is a mess. A little less so now, but it's bad enough to really bug me when I'm in the space. There's all this stuff we haven't got around to finding permanent homes for or just throwing out; there's stuff that needs to go up on walls that hasn't been put there; there's random shit lying around (why is there a length of rope in the middle of the dining room floor? How about all those empty cardboard boxes? Garlic on the sidetable? Seriously). I have a tendency towards nesting-- accumulating a pile of books and interesting objects near places I sit a lot --but when things spill out beyond those little clumps it bugs me.
Oh well.
Yesterday I really pushed it; nine and a half hours at work, and when Angus and I were wandering around looking for dinner afterwards my knees and hips just-- started hurting. Aching, grinding, I don't know; this hasn't happened to me before. We limped home, today my hips are okay for the bit of standing I did but the bottoms of my feet feel raw, like the first day of walking barefoot in the summer does to them, but I wasn't barefoot. This seems to be a prescription for more sleep and less play, but I'm not so happy with that. Summer is playtime. I have been fitting in an awful lot of stuff; I will continue to do so. Really I do need to remember to try to get a day off work, or maybe it will rain sometime for me.
I forget every year that plantwork is like this, or maybe I just don't believe it will get to that point; it's slow and easy for the longest time, then suddenly you could work sunrise to sunset every day and there would never be enough time. After a bit, as suddenly as it came, the rush is gone and you start frowning at your paycheques again instead of at your free time.
I like it; variety is important to me. I don't do a thing well if it's not variable in hours and content both. Still, the reason it works is _because_ it keeps me jumping, and because it's not entirely comfortable.
I'm savouring having space to myself. When I'm alone in my home something in me unfolds to fill every bit of airspace, no matter what I'm doing. It's not a matter of who's in the space, or what they're doing, or what I'm doing. It's not a matter of relaxing, or anything really.
It's been quite awhile since I had this space last. I'm supposed to be meeting up with Derek for breakfast and then Lee for the rest of the day; I was really wanting to go to Wreck Beach Butoh. Now, though- here I am, and I am reluctant to leave. I will get bored of housework after a couple of hours, and I would regret missing out on Derek's company, but...
And the house really is a mess. A little less so now, but it's bad enough to really bug me when I'm in the space. There's all this stuff we haven't got around to finding permanent homes for or just throwing out; there's stuff that needs to go up on walls that hasn't been put there; there's random shit lying around (why is there a length of rope in the middle of the dining room floor? How about all those empty cardboard boxes? Garlic on the sidetable? Seriously). I have a tendency towards nesting-- accumulating a pile of books and interesting objects near places I sit a lot --but when things spill out beyond those little clumps it bugs me.
Oh well.
Yesterday I really pushed it; nine and a half hours at work, and when Angus and I were wandering around looking for dinner afterwards my knees and hips just-- started hurting. Aching, grinding, I don't know; this hasn't happened to me before. We limped home, today my hips are okay for the bit of standing I did but the bottoms of my feet feel raw, like the first day of walking barefoot in the summer does to them, but I wasn't barefoot. This seems to be a prescription for more sleep and less play, but I'm not so happy with that. Summer is playtime. I have been fitting in an awful lot of stuff; I will continue to do so. Really I do need to remember to try to get a day off work, or maybe it will rain sometime for me.
I forget every year that plantwork is like this, or maybe I just don't believe it will get to that point; it's slow and easy for the longest time, then suddenly you could work sunrise to sunset every day and there would never be enough time. After a bit, as suddenly as it came, the rush is gone and you start frowning at your paycheques again instead of at your free time.
I like it; variety is important to me. I don't do a thing well if it's not variable in hours and content both. Still, the reason it works is _because_ it keeps me jumping, and because it's not entirely comfortable.
