A Rare Morning
Shhhh.
My house is empty. It's so quiet. I am all alone.
If I'm dreaming, please don't wake me.
I'm not dreaming. My boss asked me if I could work a later shift today. I told her yes before even considering what it meant.
It meant a morning to myself.
After I agreed, the numbers hit me. The kids would leave for school and I would have two and a half hours all alone. That's 150 minutes with no fighting or food fixing or remote finding. Just me and the dog and whatever I chose to do.
Oh. My. What to do?
I could deep clean the kitchen (that fridge!). I could fold clothes. (hahahahahaha!) There's some crafts I've been wanting to get to and I could paint without little fingers wanting to help.
I. Could. Sleep.
The possibilities were almost endless. But, in the end there's only one thing I wanted that is so much easier without all those distractions I love so much.
I could write.
And, so I am. I'm writing here. (Does this mean a return to regular blogging? I'm not promising anything.) And I'm working on my current book. (Dragons!)
And, I'm thinking. Thinking about all the time I had. The days on weeks on months and years where I stayed home and squandered the empty hours. I'm trying not to beat myself up over it. Learn from it and move on.
And take advantage of every opportunity.
My house is empty. It's so quiet. I am all alone.
If I'm dreaming, please don't wake me.
I'm not dreaming. My boss asked me if I could work a later shift today. I told her yes before even considering what it meant.
It meant a morning to myself.
After I agreed, the numbers hit me. The kids would leave for school and I would have two and a half hours all alone. That's 150 minutes with no fighting or food fixing or remote finding. Just me and the dog and whatever I chose to do.
Oh. My. What to do?
I could deep clean the kitchen (that fridge!). I could fold clothes. (hahahahahaha!) There's some crafts I've been wanting to get to and I could paint without little fingers wanting to help.
I. Could. Sleep.
The possibilities were almost endless. But, in the end there's only one thing I wanted that is so much easier without all those distractions I love so much.
I could write.
And, so I am. I'm writing here. (Does this mean a return to regular blogging? I'm not promising anything.) And I'm working on my current book. (Dragons!)
And, I'm thinking. Thinking about all the time I had. The days on weeks on months and years where I stayed home and squandered the empty hours. I'm trying not to beat myself up over it. Learn from it and move on.
And take advantage of every opportunity.
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