Running On Empty Friday

I seem to have used this post title before. I think my own blog would be an adventure to read- I am a stranger to myself. Yesterday, in the garden, weeding, I wanted so much not to have to return to work today (or tomorrow). I think I am getting ready to be unemployed again and able to walk the dog each morning, make art, paint, weed my many gardens and get on with the work inside my head. Instead of wasting hours, days, weeks, months away from home doing what? Watering plants, arranging pots in attractive grid patterns, standing around waiting for it to be lunch time or going home time? Work: should be productive, meaningful.

I am now defending unemployment with that side of my personality that demands I be a productive member of society and work and be paid for working. The Yin and Yang of my life. I am never not doing work. Here at home I work really hard and for awhile working somewhere else was restful. But, what has happened is that my home and the yard have gotten away from me (us) and my yard looks almost abandoned. Hell, it has been abandoned. Weeds outnumber plants. There is no beauty here.

And dogs shouldn't have to spend all day at doggie day care. I wish you could have seen Riley's face, ears and eyes when he "asked" to go for a walk in the woods with G yesterday. Yes, it was hot. Yes, he was pestered by bugs. Yes, he did go in the big mud pond and get completely filthy. And Yes, he had to spend the remainder of the day trying to keep his eyes open. But, he was happy.

I picked blueberries yesterday. I would have missed them. I'm only seeing the need to water and weed and not seeing the miracle of what is happening in the garden beds. The roses. The blueberries. The fullness of the pea pods. The little cabbage heads. Tomatoes.

This isn't the way I want to spend my time on Earth. Waiting for lunchtime and going home time. That's not productive work.

I'm reading a new Nordic author. Jo Nesbo of Norway. His detective/police man is Harry Hole. A drunk who drinks because when he sleeps he has terrible nightmares. This book is number three and foretells the plots of one and two. I need to see if I can find one and two. I like Harry. And now that I have gotten into the way Jo writes, I am enjoying the work. It's July in Oslo in the book so the weather is the same as what I am experiencing. Hot. Steamy. Uncomfortable sleeping. Harry really drinks a lot. I would never do that. I have genetic markers for alcoholism. I live in fear of taking one drink too many and falling into that pit.

I have now spoken to two banks and mine was a friendly chat and the bank in Ohio was not. I hung up feeling like a felon. They even suggested I contact an attorney. Time to pack my lunch and go to work.