So by the time I made it to work I was already running a deficit in my intentions for the day.
Bookwork! The fun sucking side of any business, guaranteed to drain you of your last ounce of joy. I was mentally prepared to tackle that ominous pile of paper on my desk but one thing after another kept me from the computer and at the end of the day, I hadn’t touched it. The only fun I had all day was helping out a friend with a design tweak and exploding the second Pendleton shirt bale; it’s like dumpster diving but for wool! The rest of the day was l running around like a headless chicken doing a lot, yet getting nothing done.
So I stayed late to get serious about that pile but then my wireless mouse conked out so I ran to the store for batteries but nothing was going to breathe life into that dead rodent so now my computer was useless to me. By then it was 7:30 and I was getting pretty hungry so went home and stuffed my face with whatever the fridge offered that didn’t need heating or a plate and then lit the wood stove. I’d brought the paperwork home to get a head start for tomorrow and was settled at the computer when my apricot girl, wise old Honey, started barking strangely so I went into the living room to investigate and was hit by a wall of smoke. The flames must have died so the paper and wood started to smolder throwing out thick grey clouds of smoke from every crack and cranny in the stove, the greasy smoke in a inky cloak streaked toward the smoke alarm causing that screaming banshee to go off. I flung open the doors and the windows while frantically whipping a dish towel around to stir the air.
When I could breathe without choking I went outside and flashed a light beam up at the chimney top and could see smoke so I knew it was drawing. Of course the low pressure ceiling and rain had contributed to the problem. I waited a bit and started the fire again, making sure the paper and kindling caught well and good before closing the door. The fire roared, the smoke drew up the chimney and I was back in business.
By now I’m feeling a bit defeated and smell like a piece of smokehouse bacon. Rough day, even rougher evening and that is when I could have thrown my backside on the sofa to wallow in self-pity, after all a day like today makes it legit. But instead I decided to rewrite my fate, take it away from the direction it was headed and sat down to hook. Usually hooking is a reward after doing my chores, making sure the dishes are washed and everything is just so, but tonight I said to hell with it and selfishly grabbed the reward, like eating the cake first! Within minutes I could feel the joy that I always feel when I hook. I felt myself relax until nothing mattered except the hook in my hand and the Santa sack filled with toys getting my wool.
This old creature of habit always puts fun last and if I don’t get all my ducks in a row than it’s put off indefinitely. I hardly ever take time to do the stuff one does for the sheer joy of it. Paperwork is about as much fun as cleaning outhouses, unless of course that’s your calling and you love it. I don’t enjoy that part of the business but the funny thing is, I’m really good at it. In my previous life, I worked in an accounting office for 12 years so I can dance around the bookkeeping pole with confidence. I just don’t want to do it, so it ruins my day! Like death and taxes, paperwork will always be there so if it continues to bum me out maybe in the new year I should hire a bookkeeper; the cost might be far less than the price I pay now.