My husband Mark catches hell around here for the order in which he does chores. His prioritization boggles the mind. We’ll be completely out of food, and he’ll start splitting logs. The baby will need to be changed, and he’ll plant a vegetable garden. It has driven me nuts for years.
Lately, I understand his strategy.
This was a trying week. At the building, the tarpaper job is getting harder. The parking lot is collecting more litter. The City is asking for even more code compliance (aka money spent on mechanical systems that we can’t afford). And on the home front, I found out I’ll need full-blown sinus surgery.
I was really worn out by it all. So by the end of the week, I decided to tackle these new obstacles in the most rational way I could think of:
Mark’s way. The fun way.
Crazy as it is, sometimes, in order to build up enough energy to get done with what actually needs to be a done, it helps to start with something that you enjoy.
And so it was that in the middle of all the pressing madness of the week, I moved a baby grand piano into my restaurant space. I’ve named her Gert, after her makers “Bush and Gert.”
I’m months away from having a completed restaurant. Tar must be scraped. Walls must be painted. Money must be acquired. The last thing I need to do is move a piano. But damnit, I wanted to see it there. And now it’s there. (A donation courtesy of my old friends, John and Carol Longhenry). And the little extra spring that it put in my step has made a world of difference.
Reader, I hope you had a great week and find a spring in your own step this week. I’ll see you next Sunday. -Em