Three glorious weeks of exclusive self-absorption and personal relaxation, oh the joys of the holiday season. Each year yours truly is forced to take off 2 weeks for the holidays, at my own expense mind you, and I add a third just for good measure. Prior to hunkering the shop for the closing year and preparing for the onslaught of the next, visions and plans raced through my head of what I had planned at home.
A new home I settled into at the first of the year, a whole acre of beautiful luscious… sand. Alright there is more to the land then just the dreary tan of the gritty earth, but looking out it’s perfect, it’s virgin and it’s just waiting to be molded into a perfect landscape of vegetables and fruits and a picture perfect desert oasis. There is trimming, raking, weeding and theading abound, mulching and dozing the earth for it to be fertility sound, revamping with repairs, replacements, whosits and whatits with thatches and catches… oops sorry was thinking about “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” My home, a place I rent but one day will own, needs some love and care and I had plans to conquer some of those on my glorious break from the stress and conundrum of intellects at work.
Looking back as those quiet days come to a close, as I glance out my back window chugging my hot coffee, damn I haven’t done a single thing. As I shake my head, I realize… this place isn’t going anywhere and neither am I.