I thought retirement was meant to be relaxing.
I thought finishing work would bring an aura of calm and tranquility to my whole being.
I thought days filled with art and creativity would make me serene and zen-like.
Perhaps I would be feeling zen-like if I wasn't involved in the rest of my life. I didn't realise that I've managed to stuff too much into too few days. I thought it was just work that took up my time, not the kids, the husband, the school, the governors, the failing exercise regime, the garden, the allotment, the cooking and now the washing up (dishwasher conked out yesterday) AND all the other things I want to do like the writing, the knitting, the sewing, the swimming, the going out and the fun.
I know I'm nearly 40 and I should know better but IT'S JUST NOT FAIR! I want to float through my days not career through them at 50 miles an hour.
I am, however, very conscious that I'm having a blast. I drew a skeleton, a ribcage and a sheep's skull yesterday and despite never having drawn for longer than 10 minutes in my life, lasted all day and was quite pleased with the results. Some of my fellow students' work was just mind-blowing but I was satisfied with my efforts. I'm sure this is not a valid artistic response and I'm supposed to be all consumed and feel the force or something but my 3 drawings looked like what they were. An accomplishment in my eyes.
Today, I'm going to a school finance course. I know, from one extreme to the other. It's in a lovely setting but they try to hide the biscuits at coffee time which I think is a little unkind.
I promise, I will try to exercise at some point today...went swimming last night and swallowed half the pool. I'm still not over the trauma.