I’m decompressing somewhat this evening, after spending the greater part of the week writing a lengthy technical document for work. I think it surprises my family sometimes – when I leave the study at the end of the work day – at how tired I can look.
Anyway. It’s the weekend. Of course we can’t go anywhere, because there’s a lockdown going on.
Washing clothes, cooking food, washing up, reading books, watching movies, and playing retro video games. That’s about the size of the weekend.
Fun times.
One reply on “Decompressing”
When I still lived in California (and still working full-time out of my home) my sister, the artist, came to visit. She watched me, and began a series of sketches, of me ‘at work.’ Me, on the phone; …me, sitting on the sofa in the sun, making notes for a letter I was drafting ; …me, taking an after-hours emergency call, with a glass of wine in my hand; and so on. And she’d marvel, throughout the day that she hadn’t yet seen anything that looked like work. She laughed and laughed–I didn’t dare mention at the end of the day that I was tired! She took her sketches home, and did a series of paintings…Alta, at work. To this day, my family doesn’t understand that I really was working. Now, semi-retired, I do a lot of physical labor. And they laugh that I’m finally working.
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