The day is almost done. Dinner is prepared and ready for serving at a moments notice. Kitchen wiped down and ready to be messed which of course it will be once dinner is complete. I look around and mentally give myself a little pat on the back; the house is clean and has stayed that way for many days now. What’s left to do? My list of things to do was complete when I marked off the one and only task, clean house. I rack my brain for some neurosis, but draw a blank. Suddenly I hear my mothers voice from a previous conversation early on in the week. She asks, “Why do you need to be doing anything at all? Why can’t you just do nothing? This is your time off”. She is right.
Time off just seems such a waste if it’s not filled with something enjoyable and while sleeping in and not going to work is enjoyable, I feel empty. I miss the routine of a workday, the rush to get home and find time to work out or cook dinner. I miss my neurosis egging me on to move faster, think harder, be better all while knowing they can’t be achieved.
So I glance over at the box of wine that has been reduced from six bottles to two over the past few nights. They stand tall, acknowledging that they have been standing in the back of my mind all day while I’ve been trying to find an excuse to not have one.
I pour a glass, take a sip, close my eyes and ask myself, “Why didn’t I start the day off like this?”