Being buried alive, that’s my week. Covered not by physical Earth but by the dirt spewed by others, volunteer work unfinished by others that I must handle, my completion of yet another volunteer job and the wrap up needed, unexpected work projects, organizing weekend plans for a myriad of people, laundry, cooking, driving, technical computer glitches, more unanticipated work questions so that to-do list grows, dogs need exercise, homework, grocery store. Is it snowing again?
The outlets? Surprise call from an old friend, funny posts on Facebook, and –my favorite, as always–an exhilarating walk-trot-canter on Sophie. As Sophie and I work, tension slips from my shoulders, my brain empties of all who need me (if just for a brief while), no one pressuring, asking, wanting, waiting, needing, needling, calling. Or if they are, I am immune. So when complete, I can start refreshed and as the phone rings, the emails alert, the mailman delivers I remember that brief respite of mine. And count the days until I can fit it on my calendar (so sad) to escape again. C