It’s 10:30 p.m. and for the last two hours, I’ve been thinking “I should be writing.”
I got off of work at 5, went power grocery shopping, came home, ironed my son’s curtains, made dinner while teaching my sons to cook and loaded the dishwasher.
About 8, I sat down to relax.
But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking, “I should be writing.”
The laundry list of stuff I have to do just repeated in my head. Organize a meeting for Pints for the People (our non-profit event group), add to my blog, finesse the budget for the Zombie Pub Crawl, work the numbers for a plan at work.
But instead, I was out on the porch reading and drinking a beer
It’s not always been this way.
I remember before the kids were born, I thought I was busy. And then, when they came, I thought “Oh, my LORD, how can I get any busier than this?”
But now, I’m busy. Even though the kids pretty much take care of themselves and help out around the house, I’m still crazy busy.
And it’s all my own fault.
Back then, I worked as a marketing director or a writer. I’ve been writing or 20+ years, either in marketing or as a reporter. And when I got home, my nights were – make dinner, give the kids a bath, put the kids to bed, relax for a few hours and go the heck to sleep.
Then, I commuted 45 minutes to work, one way, which included dropping kids off to daycare.
Then, my days weren’t quite so filled.
Then I thought I was busy.
Somehow, spending nights at council meetings and board meetings translated to working at night. On the nights, I wasn’t reporting, I started working on books, and children’s books, and articles until 11 or so at night, and then spending another hour or so relaxing in front of the TV.
Now, I run a non-profit with friends and organize events in my spare time. I write. I help others with their events. I apply for grants and events to come to our area. I work on, well… work. And that’s after work and home life.
I think it stems from a deep commitment to not watching TV and being easily bored.
Seriously, I think I just got to a point where I can’t stand not having something to do.
I mean, I LIKE not having anything to do, but on the second day of a weekend when the house is clean, there’s a lull in events, I’m not going out to help someone else with their event… well, the joy of freedom lasts about 2 hours and then I just get this annoyed feeling like I should be doing something… anything…
I think this stems from my Mom.
She is nearing a milestone birthday that she doesn’t want anyone to know about because she thinks it will make people think she is old.
And even though she retired when I had my first son, she still works days at the clothing bank she founded and as the treasurer for her local Salvation Army chapter. The woman is busier now that she doesn’t have a job than she was when she did!
And she’s always been that way. Collecting for the Mountain Mission, working at the church nursery on Sundays, raising a teenage problem child by herself (uhm, yeah… that would be me), all while working full time and running a household.
I’m pretty sure I’m the same way now. I didn’t have a choice but to learn it from her. Except for the fact that I still have a job and I get easily bored so I have all these things I come up with to do that keep me from watching TV.
They can’t, it seems, keep me away from those books though. Which is, oddly, also like my mother…
I should be writing…
But first, I wonder if I can download a copy of “Gone Girl” to my husbands kindle….
Copyright (c) Liz Carey 2014