Today is the first day of my annual “rest time”, nunspeak for vacation. I absolutely, positively love what I do every day of the year … but the idea of twelve days stretching ahead of me with no obligations, not even corporate chapel attendance, was seductive.
I worked hard this past week so I could enjoy the feeling of nothing pressing to do. Reports, letters, bills, filing, a new brochure to create, the last of the peppers to dry (well, almost the last) — all were completed. The only big project remaining was updating the website, and that’s always rather fun, so I left that one to do today, thinking it should take no longer than a few hours in the morning.
Ah, the naivete of those who must rely on computers. Mine, for example, just went on strike. Which is pretty much what I considered doing right back to it. Software died. The hard drive crunched and groaned to a stop. More than once. I couldn’t find the dratted serial number I needed to reinstall the program I was using. My picture folder seemed to be too bloated to move.
By 4:00 this afternoon I had nothing to show for my day but a very slowly defragmenting disk, some ideas about what I would have done to the web site, had I ever gotten there, and a waning hope that tomorrow would be the first real day of vacation.
As much as I am whining about the day, however, one good thing always comes from these slogging-through-molasses events. I’m reminded that the most enjoyable way to get through them is to be fully attentive to the moment — no judgment, no resistance.
And sure enough, when the poor drive finished putting itself back in order, the software hummed along and the web changes were made, all in less than an hour.
You’d think I’d remember this wisdom when things are running more smoothly.