24.11.10

No work, no pay

I can't find my glasses. It's the most irritating thing I do to myself. How myopic does one have to be to misplace glasses that one needs to wear constantly? And I do it everybloodyday. Now I remember taking them off before cuddling Mia --  learnt my lesson when I nearly took her right eye out -- but I can't recall where I've placed them. There are days when I can find them pretty quickly, often lying under the doona^ or hiding under diapers. But sometimes I just need to wait for them to turn up. Just the other day for instance. I started searching (at 8am), failed, gave up and then when I was picking washing off the line (around 4pm), I found them sitting in my rosemary pot. Why? How?
^Aussie for duvet, another word that I need to use to be understood here, more on that some other day

I've been up since 3am today (without glasses) and despite just four hours sleep, I'm feeling quite good about it. I put in 1600 words towards the deadline, cracked the next chapter, did some editing on a couple of earlier chapters and made an important discovery about one of the characters. It's amazing how that happens. I had most characters and plot-points chalked out and then just like *that*, there's a revelation. 

Now I can blog, play Finding Nemo on the XBox (rented the game) and perhaps even bake the Christmas cake (my first attempt) without feeling guilty about not doing any 'work'. I am still undecided about the whole does-housework-qualify-as-work issue. While on any given day I need to clean the house, wash the clothes, pick up the dry clothes, iron them and put the bloody things away (I hate clothes), do the dishes, water the plants, make the bed (read as pull doona over anything that's on the bed), make dinner and do the usual baby-related stuff; I still feel as if I'm not adding any value.

All right I'm exaggerating the entire housework bit. It's an ideal day when I can do all of it. Mostly it's baby-related stuff and whatever else I can manage. But the point is: I don't feel as if I'm adding any value. Because there's no by-the-hour pay at the end of it. And no, Partner, the dear man, never says anything about it. In fact many a day he comes back from 12 hours at work and makes dinner. And does the cleaning up after as well. While managing to play with Mia. Because he is giving me a break. Without any complaints. Result? GUILT.

My solution to stop feeling guilty? I start a new blog. The justification being it helps me write the book. MORE GUILT. Feels small. I am a fat, lazy slob.

3 comments:

Sree said...

I hate clothes.I cant vent enough. Those buggers are lying there since a week, washed ones one side , soiled ones 2 feet away from it.The never ending cycle.HATE 'EM I HATE I HATE!Yet cant stop buying more either.

JB said...

@ Sree: completely, totally, whole-heartedly agree and understand. i HATE them too. so there are 3 sweaters to be washed. fine, no problem, i got wool-wash. THEN one will have care instructions of washing it in cold water while the other say warm gentle wash. and all 3 will have different "dont-do-such-such" warning. what's the bloody point?!!!

Mamma mia! Me a mamma? said...

But...but, you cracked a chapter! That's big! That's huge!!

Everything else can rot in the washing machine...you cracked a chapter.

*slinks off to contemplate guiltily about her abandoned manuscript*

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