I woke this morning under the weather in a vague, undefined sort of way.  Like Yossarian, I didn’t get better or worse.  With the memory of last Friday’s intensity still lingering, I decided to do nothing much of anything for a few hours and see if things improved.  I suppose the fact that the park’s waterlines had burst so that I couldn’t shower contributed to my malaise.

 I ate some eggs and chucked the pan into the growing mound awaiting restoration of the water flow.  A few hours passed in which I did nothing more challenging than watching a couple of YouTube cooking videos and writing a few brief emails.  As I ate lunch, I booked my flight to Missouri for a writer’s workshop that I’ve been asked to present.  All of these small efforts could have been finished before nine but I stretched them into mid-afternoon, when an alert from the office announced that water would soon be gushing through our pipes.  Oh happy day!  

By five, I realized that I still felt a bit punk but my outlook seemed to have considerably cheered.  Then it dawned on me:  After seven consecutive days of working to a mad frenzy, I had just given myself a generous reward.  Down-time.  I opened the front door and stepped into the warm air.  For a long moment, I gazed upwards at the tender blue sky.  We might get rain next week, but today wore itself as a proud precursor of a glorious spring.   

I drove around the circle watching the scrub jays flit from roof to roof.   I got a package from the office, then started back, slowing for a line of crows pecking at the road.  I went the long way and chatted with a few of my neighbors.  As I parked in front of my tiny house, I realized that I no longer felt the least bit sick.  In fact, I suddenly felt rather fine.

It’s the third day of the one-hundred and eleventh month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

I Meant to Do My Work Today
by Richard Le Gallienne

I meant to do my work today—
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.

And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand—
So what could I do but laugh and go?

 

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