I committed to 30 paintings in 30 days, but that was—honestly—unrealistic. I should have committed to thirty naps in thirty days.
My husband and I seem to be trying to prove to the universe that we’re indispensable, since both of us took off running this year. In light of the season we’d just had, we should have paced ourselves. I’ve got a head cold and I worry that he’s next. That’s usually how it goes when we ignore demands from our bodies.
I tend toward hyperfocus, ADHD’s flip side. I hate back-office work but dig deeply into it once I get started. I know myself well enough to realize that I will benefit from riding this out, because I’m as behind on paperwork as I am on painting.
And somewhere, I hear a soft voice whispering, “Schedule C. Taxes.” I sincerely wish that voice would shut up.
All of which is to say, I’m sorry, Mary, but I’m suspending the 30-paintings-in-30-days for now.
Meanwhile, our youngest starts his first semester away from home this coming weekend. Even when he’s in his room writing music, I love that he’s here with us. One day this week, we’ll run down to Reny’s and buy him some college necessities like soap and shaving cream and, of course, junk food.
When he’s gone, Doug and I will be empty-nesters for the first time in more than a quarter-century. Not only did we have four of our own, we had lots of others underfoot. I miss their energy, their intelligence, and their sheer loopiness.
When it gets too quiet here, I can run down to Massachusetts to spend time with my grandchildren. That always convinces me that toddlers are a young person’s game.