Good Morning Sunshine

The latest incarnation of the paint room aka art studio, in which I have spent hours moving things around and minutes actually working on stuff.

The latest incarnation of the paint room aka art studio, in which I have spent hours moving things around and minutes actually working on stuff.

There isn’t a lot of sunshine yet today, but that’s okay.  We’re having gorgeous autumn weather into the last ten days of September.  Six work shifts to go.  I know countdowns are bad, and a form of wishing your life away while you wait for something to end or begin or happen but I’m doing it anyway.  Anticipation is half the fun, right?

On my second last working Wednesday, all alone between six and eight with no appointments and no customers and no real ambition, I decided to write down all the things I will miss about work when I’m finally done with it on the last day of this month.  I took a sheet of paper out of the printer, got one of my three erasable pens out of my pocket (there must always be three) and sat down to write a list.  Things I will miss.  Ten minutes crawled by.  Everything I thought of was something I actually wouldn’t miss at all.  In fact I knew I would be beside myself with relief and happiness to never have to deal with that shit again.  So then I divided the paper in two and on the second half started a list of things I will NOT miss.  I filled up that side and the entire back with such a pile of work related crap it put me in a totally pissy mood.  I should not be left alone on Wednesday nights.  I’ve always said that, but no one listens.

While this process was all very cathartic, I won’t be sharing my list of negativity from hell.  Going over it once was enough.  Indisputable proof that it’s time to walk away.

W is coming home today.  He’s been in Ontario at the island closing things up for the winter.  He’s bringing my water-color paint supplies home with him.  I can’t remember why I thought it was a good idea to leave them there, but now I’ll have fewer excuses for stifling my creative urges as I amass all my tools and gather ideas and look up art classes.  Plan projects, get organized, have another cup of coffee, read some blogs, play some candy crush, make a pot of soup…..

Is it a little sad that procrastination is my favourite thing in the world?   (Except for reading for hours and watching bizarre things on Netflix.  I never put those things off.)   If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I’ve been headed in that direction forever.  I do entire blog posts in my head in the middle of the night on my brilliant blog where I discuss brilliant things.  Then dawn breaks and work looms and Netflix sends me a notice that some dumb thing I’ve been watching has new episodes.  So the brilliance is put on hold.  Or forgotten.

Well, it’s an interesting theory/excuse, hey?

No, I’m not really buying it either.  But my point is (YES!  I have a POINT!) work will no longer loom.  Huge chunks of stress will dissolve right before my eyes.  I will have to find something completely different to get all pissy about.  I will answer more prompts and accept more challenges.  Or at the very least, drum up the courage to share my artistic creative genius.  You people are all really nice and will humor me on that one, right?  Thank you, I knew I could count on you.

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Ten days.  Six shifts.  Gorgeous fall weather.  Paint supplies en route to home.  Oh yeah, and W too.

Life is good and about to get better.

Sharing My World

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Some early mornings I share my backyard world with this big old jack rabbit. He mostly ignores me before disappearing under the fence but I still enjoy our time together.

The happiness project is complete (although Jazzy will probably continue to pop up sporadically being her brilliantly happy oblivious wine drinking little self) and it’s time to do some actual writing again.  For a start, I’m joining the world sharers at last, after thinking about it for 36 weeks.

Share Your World Week 37

List three pet peeves.

1.  Public washrooms.

2.  People who don’t wash their hands.

3.  Improperly installed toilet paper rolls.

What makes you unique?

My tendency to give up when someone resists being convinced of something by my brainless arguments.  What?  That’s not unique?  Well forget it then.

What would be your ideal birthday present, and why?

I would like to receive the gift of good health for the next sixty-five years.  Which would make me a hundred and thirty years old with a lot of dead friends and relatives. So forget that one too.  Just give me best wishes.  I already have too much stuff.

Which way does the toilet paper roll go? Over or under?

Well here’s the thing.  It always goes over and down.  If it went under and up it would be defying gravity.  Think of those gigantic toilet paper rolls in public washrooms that are mounted sideways on the wall.  They unwind on the left or on the right.  Depending on your perspective, you think they are unrolling from the top or the bottom, but clearly they are unwinding from the top either way.  Face the toilet paper roll in your own bathroom which you have installed the wrong way and which you believe to be unrolling from the bottom.  Imagine yourself on the other side of it, and you will see it is really unrolling from the top.  Trust me on this, I’ve spent a lot of time analyzing it.  You could argue that it’s always unrolling from the bottom too, but you’ll just piss people off because they don’t give a shit.  Hey, it’s toilet paper we’re talking about, I can use my bathroom words.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I am grateful to be de-cluttering at a time in my life when I am very likely to completely forget about the things I’ve packed away and never go looking for them again.  I’m grateful that my house is looking cleaner and brighter and less like a messed up museum.

This week I will survive four more work days and have just six left to live through before retiring to my messed up museum for good.  Or bad, depending on your perspective.

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