Teaching has kept me busy since before Andy passed last year. I’ve grieved plenty, but drowning in sorrow wasn’t an option. Between teaching, my regular day job duties, and taking care of myself and Toodles, I’ve had too much to do.
I’m grateful, and not just for the distraction. Teaching a basic consumer course, while all-consuming, is incredibly gratifying. Many students say the class should be required. I bring my own flavor, of course, but the feedback is the same, no matter who the instructor is.
No more working nights and weekends to stay on top of my class. School’s out until the middle of August. Having taught the class twice, I’m mostly ready — far more so than the first two times!
Garden chores are minimal this time of year — watering, weeding, and dead-heading. It’s too late for planting. Everything has to be in the ground by Mother’s Day to have time to develop enough roots to survive long, hot, summer days.
Summer is typically a good time to work on another novel. For a host of different reasons, I just ain’t feelin’ it. Keeping up this here blog-thingy has also been a challenge. I’m posting less often than ever.
Meanwhile, I’m journaling more than ever. For several months after Andy died, every entry was a letter to him. Over time, the focus shifted away from him to current events and plans for the future. He’s neverf far from my thoughts, but missing him doesn’t hurt so much anymore.
Having nothing to do beyond the normal chores with my evenings and weekends has been a nice change. Finding ways to fill my time has not been a priority — school starts back soon enough. When the mood strikes, I tackle another little project on a sadly neglected but always growing to-do list.
Taking better care of myself has to be a priority. The lack of time is no longer an excuse. Somewhere along the way I picked up 25 pounds. I can’t imagine why since I rarely run, haven’t been to the gym in months, and routinely consume probably twice as many calories as I should.
Forty years ago I dropped out of college (twice), worked two and three jobs at a time with no car, a mountain of debt, and a dark and dingy efficiency apartment with a cheap foldout sofa for my bed. My life has turned out far better than I ever could have imagined. I’m too grateful to complain. No matter what struggles I may face, things could always be worse.
2 responses to “Time on My Hands”
Glad that you are thinking about your health. I hope that as you continue to journal, your Muse will get you thinking about your stories as well. I don’t often take the time to come by and comment, but I appreciate your honesty and your courage at sharing your journey through your blog and always send my good wishes. Hugs.
Thank you so much. Hugs to you too.