On Wednesdays

I am making a real effort to set aside more "create" time for myself. If you are of a creative bent yourself, you know that can be a dangerous thing. The balky painting comes to life, the essay is coaxed onto the page after much fist-pounding and rending of raiment, the research on Victorian accessories turns into a pleasurable afternoon at the library, the knit-purl-knit-purl turns the corner and becomes a bed coverlet. Suddenly you are stepping over laundry to get to the coffeepot, there are dishes stacked in the oven, the dryer and, yes,  also in the dog's crate. The school has left four messages wanting to know when you are coming to pick up your children.

My solution was to set aside Wednesdays. Of course, weekends are out. Too many social/church/family engagements. Monday needs no explanation. We show up ready to attack the week...Monday announces that it has four days' worth of surprise stuff to shoehorn into the schedule.

Tuesdays and Thursdays seem businesslike to me so that's when I take care of teeth cleanings, oil changes, termite inspections and the like. (If I agree to meet you for lunch on Tuesday or Thursday, it doesn't NECESSARILY mean I consider it a chore. It could be Monday's doing that my schedule is off.)

The Beloved has taken to working from home on Fridays so that's not a good day for me to be plinking on the piano writing songs or throwing my laptop against the wall trying to complete a book chapter.

So, Wednesday. It has no real identity other than acting as Hump Day...the little hill that flutters our tummies as we speed from the first half of the work week to the last. On this day, I give myself permission to wear pj's until dark (then change into other pj's). I may set up shop on the dining table (or the sofa or the patio or the rug in the guest bedroom) and stack enough open books around me to research five doctoral dissertations. I can type Indian-style on the floor, lying down with a laptop on my tummy, curled in bed in a cloud of pillows. I can ditch the book I'm writing (which is taking for-EVer) and bang on the Kawai for a while...singing, yodeling, war-whooping, whatever. I might even go upstairs and break out the acrylics. They might become a sunflower or a tufted titmouse or a '53 Ford pickup by afternoon.

I have found that, in one hour, I can pretty much Rambo-clean my creative-messiness so that the house is back to its everyday-messiness by the time the housemates get home. By setting my cellphone alarm, I avoid the dangers of forgetting to pick up the kid or feed the dog, both of whom will nip at fingers when sufficiently neglected.

Have a great week, my friends. I hope you will save some time in it for YOU. We deserve a fun day. It makes us smile on all the other days.


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