Leon has almost finished stumping the back. The whole effect from afar is of a roiled sea of stumps and logs.
However from close up one can see the neat windrows.
I’ve almost finished rehanging the fencing in the south pasture. Another day will do it. But I think I will take most of today “off,” instead. It is due to rain, Leon may not come in, and mentally I could use a change. The past two days of my work have been less than stellar. I’ve had a hard time forcing myself to keep pulling posts and pounding them. Tired and a bit burned-out, mentally.
Part of this is not sleeping but part is just feeling tired of constantly encountering new problems and trying to meet them with equanimity. The well technology that was sold to me two years ago is poor and “doomed to fail.” The electrical service installed last year is inadequate. The concrete floor is cracking. (All of these services were put in by the best local companies.) Leon will not be able to finish all the excavator work this week. Charlie the bull is mounting Katika daily, which suggests she is not bred, but he goes to the butcher soon, so maybe she won’t calve this year. Punch must be sold before cold weather. The shavings and hay deliveries can’t be made in the rain. Worry, worry, worry.
DH and I have a friend who twenty years ago had a serious alcohol problem. The friend told us that he would often come into work after drinking all night, drive a bulldozer up into the sugarbush where no one could find him, and sleep it off in the cab.
This week I have found myself thinking about this. I told DH I would skip the vodka but half-wished I could drive into the woods somewhere in my truck and secretly snooze.
DH was mystified. “Just stretch out on our bed here. Or take a nap at my cabin.”
The problem is that everywhere I look there are more chores shouting for my attention. Cleaning, straightening, cooking, laundry, recycling, vacuuming, mail sorting and bill paying, trips to the dump. When will I get everything done? My anxiety soars. The whole point of the “drive into the woods and sleep” fantasy is escape.
Though DH listens patiently, the concept is alien to him. He has a constitution of iron. He thrives on challenge and working himself to the bone. Over the years he has often stayed up all night to finish a task. When he’s done at the office, he starts planning his next backbreaking mountain adventure to use up any spare energy.
I’m not like this. I don’t have the stamina.
I’ve often reflected on the ancient concept of “the Sabbath is a day of rest.” I can see that it would be restorative to have one day when you weren’t allowed to push yourself, when you had to be still and quiet and let your spirit be replenished. It sounds lovely and peaceful. I’d like to make that happen for myself and my children.
But for the moment, it’s restful simply to narrow my focus. No fretting about big-picture worries today. Today, I’ll feed the livestock but otherwise I’m just going to clean the house from top to bottom and get my girl organized for the new school year.