Idle hands

I’m not sure what the quote, “Idle hands are the devil’s playthings” means, because I have idle hands these days and they are often very creative and doing work for good.  I’m sewing again!  I’m knitting again!

Now, truth be told, I suppose I could be sewing warm little sweat suits for starving, poor children or I could be knitting scarves (I haven’t mastered mittens and/or hats yet) for the homeless – but I am making spiffy things for me and a scarf for Marty and I’ve started an afghan for my living room.  I probably won’t finish it until 2013, or I’ll run out of yarn and realize it isn’t big enough to be a real afghan and the store won’t have more of the yarn anymore so it’ll be some weird-sized lap blanket, but my intentions are good.  I think perhaps I should go buy more of the yarn while they still have it and I have coupons and it’s on sale.

I must say I’ve sewn some phenomenal skirts and tops that I’m quite enjoying.  And God knows, everyone needs spiffy casual skirts and tops for lounging around the house watching TV.  That’s when I get out of my PJs at all.

That sounds sort of sad and depressing, but not so.  I get out of my PJs some days.  For instance, on the days when I finish a new skirt or top, I almost always put them on for a few hours before it’s PJ-time again.

Here’s the thought that has been confounding me a good bit while I’ve been unemployed.  I know that at some point, my unemployment will run out and I’ll have to get a job (Wal-Mart Greeter or BJ’s Receipt-Checker, perhaps), but what do people do with their time once they retire?  I know that some get busy traveling or playing golf or playing Bridge or Mah Jong or – well, with something, but there must be an awful lot of puttering involved in being retired.

It’s hard to imagine unemployment with no end date.  Correction: with a permanent end date, but no one wants to think of it that way.  I mean, once you retire, that’s it.  You’re done working.  Now, my dad did the retirement thing for a while and eventually, he decided to opt for a part-time job at a golf course instead of actually golfing.  And it’s been great for him.  He’s 79 years young and he works three or four times per week and it’s really good for him and he enjoys it.  I wonder when he’s going to retire again.

The funny thing is that I think that will be me.  I think when I’m done working, I’ll take some time off to putter and then I’ll get a job at Target part-time.  Target is, of course, my happy place.  It’s the magical place where I go to meander the well-lit aisles of variety and quality products at reasonable prices.  Marty and I went to a Wal-Mart (do they call it a “Super” Wal-Mart or a Wal-Mart “Super Center” when it has a food center too?) in Plymouth last weekend and I must admit that, although I did not reach the level of nirvana of Target, I quite enjoyed the variety of products at reasonable prices.  And they had a pair of jeans that fit me!  What?  No, really.  They did.  For $18.  I still don’t believe it either, so you don’t have to believe it.

Everyone should have a happy place.  Where is your happy place?  Actually, everyone should have more than one happy place.  I have many.  Siesta Beach in Sarasota, Florida, is my other “nature” happy place.

And one of the best things right now in my life is that my home is one of my happy places.  I’ve lived in houses that I liked.  I lived in houses I hated.  I’ve lived in houses about which I am indifferent.  But this is the first house that is a happy place.  I love my house.

So, I think the person who said that “Idle hands are the devil’s playthings” just didn’t have happy places and/or didn’t know how to play with himself.

You gotta know how to play with yourself.

And you can take that any way you choose . . .

If it sounds too good to be true . . .

In May of 2008, I interviewed for a new job and was offered a position.  It was twice the money, twice the vacation and far better benefits.  I confess that I worked fastidiously at first to quiet that little suspicious voice in the back of my mind that said, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”  For the next two years, I enjoyed working in an environment where I had a voice and I was respected and utilized.  It was invigorating and motivating and validating.  It was great.

A year ago, the owner of the company made his long-overdue appearance back into his company.  He had taken a bit of a sabbatical for years and – as often happens in such situations – he came back and felt the need to grab the reins with gusto.  In the past three to six months, this family run business which employed three family members now employs about a dozen family members.

Monday, August 23rd, the owner – on the advice of his accountants – started making big changes.  He fired a couple of the senior executives and let a couple of others go as well.  I was one of those “others”.  I was the only employee to receive a severance package and I think he genuinely felt bad letting me go in this economy – for what that’s worth.

So, I’m licking my wounds and going through all the stages of denial.

Yeah, sort of like that.  I’ll let you know when I get completely past the anger stage.  Right now, not so much.