My eyelids droop, my head falls forward, and it’s only half past eight in the evening. The curse of aging.
When younger, I could get up at half past five in the morning, go all day and half the night. I was married to a man who worked 80-100 hours a week, had a small child, dealt with elder care issues for 25 years, and worked a full-time job myself. Occasionally, I cleaned the house. I always made meals.
Now, I still get up at half past five or six, although I no longer have to set an alarm (there has to be some compensation for aging), but my days are less rigorous and more leisurely. I write most of the day, having left work to write full-time, but I walk 3-5 miles each day, something I didn’t have time to do when I went to a job. I also belong to the bounty garden, a project where we grow vegetables for food banks, so I check my assigned “bed” regularly to make sure my carrots and chard are growing and haven’t succumbed to moles or squirrels. And I have my own little plot of garden outside my condo.
I play bridge two times a month, I belong to a choir which I hope will go back to “in person” this fall, and I’m a member of a piano club. I no longer play the piano, I tell people. I play AT the piano, my skills having deteriorated significantly, but I love to play. I also do jigsaw puzzles, which are great in the early evening because when I’m “stuck” with my writing, I don’t walk after dark. I put together a puzzle for 10-15 minutes until I some idea comes to me and I go back to my computer. I do more of these puzzles in winter than in summer.
Last time PG&E sent me an email, they indicated that my usage was “above average.” Guilty as charged. My computer is on all day and half the night and I’d go mad if I didn’t have it.
But I want to keep going in the evening. I don’t want my eyes and head growing heavy. I want to keep writing. I go to bed with my Kindle (yes, more power usage) and I read, but I’m asleep by the end of page one or half way down page two.
Such is life. I should accept it, but I still buck at the traces as much today as when I was twenty. I hope it keeps me young.