Interval

Been a while. Even the spambots have given up on me, no longer wasting their alluring offers of apps guaranteed to increase site traffic on such an obvious loser.
So much to do, is the thing. New job, because my kids want to go to university and I only have two kidneys. More hours at work, ditto. A thoughtful (handmade\cheap) wedding present that turned out fine in the end but took three solid weeks to do. Preparation for a group show last weekend, and a demo, and then all the clearing and packing away. A bunch of paintings still to do for the August holiday weekend, but now I’ve got a few days to work on them the weather has turned sweltering hot and by lunchtime I have to give up, as the paint bakes solid on the palette and sweat runs down my back.
Since I have such a lot of things to do, I am of course hyper-distractable, very ready to be sidetracked into anything else that comes along – whether it is the implosion of geopolitics or the logistics of moving all the furniture so that a miserable threadbare carpet can finally be replaced.
At work, a bunch of people are leaving or retiring as the end of the financial year approaches, and I wonder what that might be like, to no longer have that particular toad squatting on my life.
Would I finally read through the box of books under the bed, or catalogue the thousands of photographs? Tackle the rampant roses and fix the garden gate? I might just sink down in front of the television and gradually forget to do anything else. Or just take on a hundred more impractical, ramshackle projects in the expectation of all that free time – and then never finish them?