Thursday, July 27, 2006
Put to rest
That's what I should do with myself -- put myself to rest.
It has been a rough week. Not much work and working at all hours of the day and night. Makes it rough to get some sleep or even eat on any kind of normal schedule, but it's the slow period of the year when doctors are goofing off, playing golf, going on vacation, doing anything and everything but dictating their reports. That means little sleep for me and not enough work to make more than minimum quotas. Not a good time of year. Oh, the doctors will make up for it this fall and winter because the hospitals won't pay them until they catch up their reports. Feast or famine. Right now it's famine.
I'm tired and achy and feeling like the rough side the sandpaper. It could be worse. I could still be scrounging for work with one eye on the clock and the other on the program that brings work from New Jersey to my computer, hoping there will be enough to make quota.
I am not going to sit around here this weekend. I need to get outside in the fresh air and sunshine that has taunted me through the windows all week long with promises of rest and rejuvenation. This morning when the work ran out I climbed back into bed. The air was cool and I wrapped up in the sheet and the blanket for the first time in weeks. I fell asleep to the sound of rain drumming on the roof and whispering through the leaves and woke to glistening trees and leaves, the streets wet and cool beneath a cloud shrouded sun. As the sun climbed in the sky the dirty gray turned to a clear and bright Colorado blue. For once working wasn't torture with my hands so sweaty my fingers were sticking to the keyboard making too many mistakes and the air like breath from a dragon's maw.
Back to this weekend. I'm going to pack up my sketch book, pencils and laptop and go to Poor Richard's and have brunch in their Internet cafe. Then when I've had time to unwind and recuperate I'm going to get in the car with my backpack and some water and snacks and head for the hills. I need to walk in the mountains and breathe fresh air and walk down dusty, needle cushioned trails until I find a river or stream to have a late lunch and sketch what I find, but mostly I'm just going to enjoy being away from work and telephones and people for a few hours.
Maybe it's worth all the work to increase the craving and hunger for open spaces and unspoiled vistas that drives me from my comfortable and cluttered hermit's cave and back into nature. I do miss the quiet and solitude of the cabin but I don't miss not being able to find company and enjoy the excitement and diversity of the city.