My New Hobby – Exhaustion

Last Thursday night, I fell asleep at 7:30 and woke up in time to go to work the next morning.  I did it again last night.

This evening, I feel asleep once again around seven and  woke up three hours ago. My kitty boys gently reminded me that I had other things to do beyond sleeping.

Jack and Nu Mu

My house is a bit cleaner now, litter box and turtle tank included.  The boys are happy, well except for the kitty who is confined to the potty room but that is another story.  There is more work to be done, but then again there is always more work.

Deciding to clean my house wasn’t an attempt at perfection, far from it. It was an attempt to breathe.

Exhaustion is something that with my work current schedule, I can’t avoid.  Between job no. 1 teaching and job no.2 answering phones for a local theme park, I have worked the last eight days straight. I still have five more days before I have a day off. On top of all of this, I agreed several months ago to chaperone the senior trip to Universal’s Grad Night.  It was a blast and I was happy to do it.

I have also written more than five thousand works on my latest project, read about twenty student research papers and designed lessons for four different classes.

Cleaning the house tonight will allow me just a bit more relaxation time this week and provides me with a little more mental clarity. A clean house may not actually be next to godliness, but it is next to sanity.

It was my choice to clean tonight; no one forced or pressured me.

It is a choice that I am proud of; along with my choice to be positive and happy.  Sometimes we forget that those are choices. We wait for the perfect time to do this or that and never let ourselves breathe. Never let ourselves see the man on the street doing the robot dance as he waits for a safe time to cross the street or let out a laugh because we remember doing that in the fourth grade. We are too focused on getting to the store and using our coupons to save another fifty cents. We will drive an extra ten miles do so; never taking into account the gas we are using or the time.

My time is precious.   It is as valuable as my happiness.

Tomorrow afternoon when I walk in the front door my floors will be clean, the living and dining rooms will be free of clutter and the bedroom won’t contain a basket of clothes waiting for my attention. Then I will be able to take part in my latest hobby-exhaustion napping.  If I wake up before the morning alarm goes off, sweet. Otherwise, I will just let my body exercise its own choice to be happy and sleep.

Tossing the junk; cleansing the past (An Update)

The past calls to me, but it is like the siren’s call; deadly. It urges me to hold on go things. The objects which in turn sing my name; yet these items straddles me with their weight. They threaten to limit my future: emotional, physically and financially.

This past weekend, I ventured into the confines of the storage unit I have shared with my parents for nearly a decade.  The size has fluctuated; sadly at one point there were two units. The siren’s call was too much for both myself and my mother to resist. So we held on and on…

Then, the financial burden began to wear on us and the voice of a new siren called us to clean.  (Thank you, Clean House) Momma and I went through the units over a weekend and downsized enough to fit everything into one smaller unit.  It wasn’t difficult at the time.  I organized and took items to goodwill across the street. Momma wisely took over going through my paternal aunt’s pictures; sifting through them and weeding out those that  I had no connection with.

Judith Rose never married, although she was courted by more than one man. I look a lot like her and have a picture in my classroom; watching over me. She is sitting at a desk; posed to look like she was working.  Judith was an imperfect being who had many faults, but she taught me to value the past.

We never discussed her maiden aunt status or it’s effect on her social life.  It wasn’t my place as her niece. She lived next to her parents her entire adult life, well, actually above them. Her home was on the side of the mountain that over looked my grandparent’s home.  She spent a lifetime collecting and learning; as a lover of history you can imagine my horror at seeing her precious collection given away.  Everything I could fit was packed into the car that I inherited from her.

Upon my graduation from college, the things that I managed to save were moved from one unit in Virginia to another one in Florida. There wasn’t a place for them for a long time. Eventually, I rented two rooms in a house from a friend.

Suddenly, there were places for things to go; yet the storage unit was still half full. Things with that roommate didn’t work out and I rented an apartment of my own.  It was a studio which resulted the storage  nearly full.  The next move filled it.

We could barely set foot in the door; after two weekends and about eight hours of work you can step inside easily and even move around.  Momma and Stew, my boyfriend, were there as I went through boxes.  Stew lifting and hauling.  Momma trading the look with encouragement.  The two of them acted as a safety line; ensuring that I didn’t become overwhelmed or hurt myself by lifting something I shouldn’t.

Surrounded by love, it was easier to let go. Easier to say goodbye to the past when my future was standing with me.

This weekend, I am tackling my home off so that I can have a place to be craft.   A place to create and model my future.