I woke up this morning with the urge to go out and pressure wash the hardscaping in the garden.
It's not going to happen, unless I get a lot of other stuff done first. I can't believe the lists.
This is the year that I'm spending 50% of my normal work hours and about 99% of my normal dancing, gardening, yoga, etc., hours working with the boards of two non-profits that are in the midst of exciting growth, repair, and transition.
The work isn't a pain; it's fascinating. The brainstorming stuff is, of course, energizing. The people are great. I'm learning to anticipate how people will react, how people will react with each other, and how to create experiences that bring out the best in people — which often means challenging them with responsibility and trust.
I'm also learning how to ask people for help and for money — large amounts — which I find exhausting.
All that said, this is not natural work for me, and never will be. I'm tired, and it's frustrating not to have time for the activities that restore me: aimless wandering around the neighborhood, pottering around in the garden, reading books that I have no idea if I'll like or not, and writing stories that might not pan out and that never have to be posted on a blog. I very much miss demolishing structures, digging up deadwood shrubs, and pressure washing moss off the patio — big, messy, projects that are measured in hours rather than minutes.
I am promising myself: Next year. Please let me get to next year.
Meanwhile, off to write a book review, run a round of errands, and condition the wood on the antique dresser Tom brought out of The Magic Storage Locker.