Call Me Irresponsible

Confession Time:

I haven't done squat since I moved.  Oh, I do the crossword everyday.  Yep, that's it.  I do the crossword.  Except on Sunday's-- Sunday is a day of rest...and that crossword is too hard for me.

No, I threw responsibility out the door.  After over 39 years of being a professional, daily responsible human-- I quit.  Flat out stopped dead in my tracks.  Moved.  Painted.  Arranged furniture.  Sewed.  Raked leaves.  Spread pine straw.  Cleaned the paths.  I didn't look in the rear view mirror at my professional career.  Rocked on the porch swing.....read to Mary Michael whenever she asked....dozed in the hammock.

I took a sabbatical of caring about the norms of this world.  I should feel bad-- I don't.   My responsibility meter was on empty.  I didn't have one more ounce of "I'll take care of it" to give.  School had sucked me dry.  My family had never complained and I felt like it was time to put them first.

I haven't read the best sellers much.  I reread Jane Erye.  I haven't mailed thank you notes that are almost a year old-- they're written, I just don't go to the post office.  I sleep until I wake up and I go to bed when I'm tired.  I have worked on our house.  I look at Pinterest.  I watch "What Not To Wear" and am thankful Stacy and Clint haven't come to my closet.

I have had a year of moving at my own speed and doing my own thing.  Frankly, I think I could become a hermit.  I sneak into town wearing my "butter bean picking" outfit and I blend into the features of the store.  I am a person of WalMart.  I enjoy my second cup of coffee.  I listen to the creek.

My garden has become my refuge.  I plant.  I weed.  I water.  I feed.  I tend those things that ask for nothing in return.  I enjoy looking out the window at the pansies.  I sit on the porch everyday and I watch the birds.  I marvel at the colors of the sky, of the trees, of the animals.  I am proud of my banana tree.  My elephant ear plants continue to thrive.  I do like my blue bird bath.

I have done physical work instead of mental work. I have chalk painted bookcases, helped Bill on home improvement projects, and read tons of magazines.  No one has lied to me about where they live, who they live with, or why they don't have their child's birth certificate, social security card, immunization form....no one has yelled at me or muttered under their breath at me.  It has been quite refreshing.

Mr. Biggles, Norman, Jack, Pawley, and Raggs have benefited from walks, feeding and general good will.  The pets have become personal friends and we have all enjoyed our daily walks.  I like playing with them.  They are loyal and true.  They're happy to see me.

Bill's  "chief cook and bottle washer" is back.  He's had hot meals, clean clothes, and buttons sewed in the same year he lost them.  I go to the store with a list and a plan.  I have learned to mow.  We have been eating healthy.  I am not as grouchy as I was.  The bags under my eyes aren't suitcases.....they're small backpacks.

I have felt "responsibility" luring me back to the real world.....just like the Sirens  singing to the sailors, I hear the world calling my name.  I wonder if I'll fight those impulses or if I'll go on to more adventures in the big world.  I have a new, snazzy pink and green agenda/planner, I have opened it, and I have four appointments in the next two weeks.  Number one on my to-do list is going to the post office.

I think she's back.