WASTED WEEKEND

Another two days of near isolation with the belief I would get a lot done. Things like washing the dishes piled up in my sink. Straightening up my bedroom was avoided. Cleaning my bathroom ignored. Vacuuming my floors - well there is too much on them anyway. To vacuum, I would have to pick. If I pick up I might as well put things were they belong. I would do that if I know where they belonged, but they have been piled up so long I forgot where they go. But since I live alone and am the only one who sees this garbage - oh well. I am badly slipping into a bachelors way of life. It's not that I hate doing those things, but dislike is high in my thoughts. Instead I finished another Ted Dekker book "Bone Man's Daughter", and worked on a photo album I have had material for from 30 years ago during my teaching days. My how time flies even when you're not having fun. But I am having fun. Love the comments on the album. I look forward to them everyday.

I was also planning to get another drawing done for the weekend. Ha! That never happened. They backed the show up a week and now I think I have time to get anything done I want. I did lay out a piece of paper, select the photo from which I will draw and began the outline. Yeah. Progress. Looks I did nothing.

What's great about a weekend like this is I never bothered to get cleaned up on Saturday. Didn't even comb my hair. But I had to get a bit cleaned up today for church. Also, I shave twice a week. Sunday morning and Wednesday morning. I know! That's quite often, but beards have always itched on me. I can take about one weeks worth and the scratching begins. I can turn my face so red I look like I have been on the losing end of a cat fight. A bit of a mess.

After church I got myself back into my sloppy clothes, had a long nap, fixed dinner, watched a couple of movies and started another book. History this time. I realize that I lead a very busy life, and I do get tired from all I do. But I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I love it anyway and am willing to suffer for the joy of this life.