Sometimes I worry that in my return to
a life 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. Post "retirement" I've
discovered that bliss is alive and well
far beyond the conventional hot spots.
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.
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.
We're blessed to have the weekly
aid of a talented professional who
keeps things under control. Yet
in between both of us continue to
play the role of maintenance men.
Simply keeping up consumes all
of our days. Frank's Mother once
advised that it was best to "Do a
little bit everyday." However the
basic function of clean living is if
nothing else quite a dirty business.
So we endlessly toil away and if
necessary - air our dirty laundry.
While obviously busy, I feel guilty for
my lack of ambition. Over my career
I was able to almost anything if/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 such fulfillment a waste of 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
husband is at my side no matter what.
Our home is beyond lovely. Therefore
I'm going to try my best to enjoy it all.
And if that means doing nothing of any
consequence - then so be it. Now. I'd
better get back to my menu planning.
