July 25, 2006
Who has time to work?
Between laundry, lunch and dinner, quilting, knitting, and crocheting, who has time to work? Certainly not me. Not to mention the never ending cross-stitch project, unfinished borders to be placed on quilts, taming the beast (a.k.a. Jed), and emptying the kitty litter. Every once in a while I enjoy a good book, go for a walk, and plan a meal I never intend on cooking. Then there’s the usual grout-scrubbing in the bathroom, counter-bleaching in the kitchen, and vacuuming every surface to be found, whether vertical or horizontal.
On those rare occasions (ha!) when bills come due, it is time for me to place my projects aside and go to work. For eight, sometimes twelve, hours at a time, rather than a scrub brush, hook, or needle, I carry a syringe, medicine cup, and sometimes things even worse. I make a living (a pretty good one at that) by poking, prodding, and even making people cry all because “the doctor said so”. Then I am free to go back to surfing the internet for great vacations, planning nursery lessons that must last an eighteen-month-old’s attention span (be it 15 to 20 seconds), and sweeping off the back porch. That is until my eye catches a new leather arm-chair at Beck’s furniture. After all, it’s only an extra shift.
You want to know the real reason I love nursing? It’s because I certainly don’t have time to work.