My days of working so hard are numbered, at least for a while. I've only had a few days off in the last six months, literally. I could probably count the number of days off on one hand. The work I've done this summer wasn't hard, but it was constant. It's the commuting time that's beginning to wear on me. Every work day I have includes a minimum two hours of travel. I really can't complain too much about it, most of the traveling I do is on the ferry, "the only civilized way to commute," a phrase I should seriously consider trademarking. But, the time spent in transit is still tiresome, so much so, that I actually consider time to cook a real meal or to do laundry as cause for celebration, and have started to think about finding a city room for next season.
Spending so much time in transit leaves me a lot of time to think. I don't necessarily take advantage of the time that way, but it's there if I need it. I like almost everyone around me, spend a lot of that time looking at my cell phone, posting, commenting, sometimes reading. Esentially, I waste the time. But today was different. I decided to hold up in a local cafe with a cup of tea, and spent some time reading. Like the lox bagel I had, it was delicious. Which led me to this post, where I begin to wonder about my use of time.
In a lot of ways this summer has been a continuation of a self imposed time out. I guess I needed to decide what's next for me. I still don't know, but I m beginning to see that I should be doing a bit more than I am, maybe.
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