There is no pleasure in having nothing to do;
the fun is having lots to do and not doing it.
~ Mary Wilson Little
Wish I'd known about the second part of that quote earlier this week. I had lots to do, but I sure didn't have fun not doing it. I felt the weight of the weeds – and the rotting tomatoes and the slug-attacked cantaloupes and the not-too-late-to-plant greens – as surely as if I'd been carrying a heavy load of compost from the bin to the garden.
The first part of the quote I've known all my life. I always feel better when I have something to look forward to. I have a little countdown calendar widget that I can update with the next event; it tells me how many days until, for instance, my Dad comes to visit (17). I could put several of them up on my computer for upcoming events in September. I'm busy every weekend next month.
The more I think about it, the second part of that quote doesn't apply to me at all. If I have lots to do, I'm excited and engaged and, well, busy, which is what I want my life to look like. My husband thinks I do too much. His theory is I got sick because I was doing too much and my immune system was compromised and the first germ I ran into stuck like glue.
The four most important words in the world are "You could be right," and he could be. But I maintain that staying busy is better for me, even when I eventually get knocked down for a few days, because busy-ness means I don't have time to eat.
I'm Debbi and I just proved I have an eating disorder. Heh.
Hope your weekend is better than my week. I'm not only going to remain vertical today, I'm going to venture out. I need eggs, flour and sugar from the Amish store; fruit from the farmer's market, and milk from Elora. I may have to collapse in a heap when I get home this afternoon.