Idle hands

I look like this on the outside, but in my head, it’s like a pack of dogs vs. a vacuum cleaner.

Idle hands are the devil’s workshop” is what people say to encourage each other and themselves to stay out of trouble by keeping busy.

There’s a stigma to being. Just being. Being still, being contemplative. Oh, sure, all the online articles advise us to take a moment for ourselves… “You can’t pour from an empty cup,” and “Self care isn’t selfish,” blah blah blah.

We share the pre-made graphics with pretty colors and appealing fonts displaying these sayings, encouraging each other to care for ourselves.

But we don’t really. We’re too busy.

I’ve been stressed for so long that it’s my de facto state. Between my job, nursing my two elderly French bulldogs, being the handler for my alma mater’s mascot, and renovating my house, I have either been busy or feeling guilty for not doing what needed to be done.

Then the days I worked for arrived: No house, no job, and, unexpectedly, no dogs.

While I revel in achieving most of my goals, I also find myself a little lost and feeling more than a little guilty. From age 16, I’ve had two jobs, or I worked full time and went to school. What am I doing, laying around all day?

That’s where friends come in: Stop. Breathe. You’re not on a time table. Enjoy your sabbatical – you won’t have this opportunity again until retirement.

We all need reminders. I am exceedingly grateful for my friends, many of whom seem to know when I need that pep talk.

For now, I’m going to concentrate on being. Just being. Screw the stigma.


Just relax

My hair, post-massage. Yeah…it was that good.

Stress accompanies most major life changes.

  • Sell home of 17 years          ☑️
  • Quit job of 16 years              ☑️
  • Plan for 1,000 mile move   ☑️

Luckily, I have a friend who’s been there/done that, and he knew just what I needed: a professional therapeutic massage.

So off I went for my first ever massage at Essential Health in North Providence – a very generous gift.

It was fantastic. I highly recommend. If you’ve thought about going for one but are uncomfortable with the thought of getting naked in front of a stranger, don’t let it stop you. My massage therapist Michelle said, “I have clients who keep pants and socks on. Be comfortable!”

I know what you’re thinking…Yes, I got a happy ending. The kind that comes from having a professional skillfully massage out my knots and tension. Perverts. Don’t ask them about happy endings – you’re probably not paying enough for them to pretend to be amused by your unoriginal jokes for an hour.

But do go get a massage at Essential Health in North Providence, RI. Ask for Michelle.


Rhode Island’s Death Grip

what-if-i-ojbwrmHere I am, on day 5 of what SHOULD be my life on Hilton Head Island. Still in Rhode Island at my parents’ empty apartment in North Providence.

Following my move from my home in Smithfield, RI, I spent the next five days utterly exhausted beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. The sheer physical and emotional toll of moving 17 years’ worth of stuff was unexpected.

As I began to feel more energized, I started ticking through my “to-do” list.

Which resulted in a speeding ticket and the discovery that my car’s registration was cancelled. I got lucky. The police officer gave me a warning on the registration violation. The car should have been towed.

My extended stay has resulted in two problems: I burned through my phone’s data in 3 days, and I have nowhere to do laundry. My parents keep the laundry room key for their apartment in North Providence where it makes sense – in South Carolina with them.

So I bought 30 pairs of underwear.

You can’t say I’m not a problem solver.

NEXT UP: Why don’t underwear manufacturers offer packs of just solid, dark colors?