Musings

It seems that my creativity has completely dried up.
The last month has been a nice change from the rushing back and forth from the office, and it put an end to my 16 hour days, at least 12 hours of which I worked. Sam was laid off on the first day of my "vacation" and that made for an unusual time off experience for me.
He has been looking daily at numerous job websites and establishments that post jobs. There is really very little to be had out there, so it means a lot of work for very little response. But I have been happy to have him with me for this last month. I may have gone crazy with these puppies had I been 100% responsible for them, day in and day out.
Because we have young dogs who can't travel yet, we couldn't go away this last month. Therefore it really hasn't felt likc much of a holiday. We have however, been able to watch them grow, to train them to some degree, and to have the luxury of sitting on the floor and holding them every morning. They have a very strong bond to us, even if they are naughty sometimes (like the other night when they started chewing on the couch. Sam was apoplectic!)
We've been getting up in the night with them at least once, usually twice, so they can relieve themselves outside. They are getting better as they get older and more continent, for which I'm thankful. But I am extremely tired due to sleeping lightly at night so I'll hear them, or that they usually wake up in the morning around 5:30.
Meanwhile, Otis has lost weight and become a bit more to himself. I suppose he has had to withdraw some, just for his own sanity. He does sleep with us at night though--the one time he has us all to himself. We're keeping an eye on him to be sure he's okay. He's eating well now, but after we got the puppies, he didn't want to eat much of anything. He doesn't own the whole house any more. Just everything but the den and kitchen. Baxter and Charlie have a sense of ownership for that space and go nose to nose with him if he drinks from their water dish or sniffs their food. Even a pass through the room by Otis causes great excitement, barking, and hurling themselves at him. Of course, that goes over like a rubber crutch.
But now I'm back at work and supposed to be productive, cranking out the work. I just want to go up to a mountain cabin, curl in a ball under a down comforter, and sleep for several days.

It has been nice to see a few of the students and some of my colleagues again--that's all that are on campus just now since school doesn't start until September 27th. I've been holed up in my office, trying to get an application for a post-master's certificate written. It has to go through the administrative committee hoops on the 22nd, so this document needs to be comprehensive and thorough. It is like writing a dissertation, I'm finding. I'm already up to about 60 pages. I never knew I could say so much about the topic, or about accreditation issues, etc.

There are syllabi to construct and a course to put online. I have to start going back up into the hospital to make rounds with my students; and to the outlying clinics where they work (under my license). So that will be more to do.

When I get home, it is always nice to see what Sam has been doing. Yesterday, he had my car serviced, done some shopping, and got all of our packages and mail sent out. What a relief! We've made a deal that since he doesn't like laying the new flooring, he will carry in the big cartons of wood to the space where I'll be working, tear up the carpet and padding and remove it, and then clean the floors once they are in. That suits me well, since putting in the floor is much like making a quilt: a good activity to do at one's own speed whilst reflecting on life. I now have two rooms done, with the exception of half of one closet. This weekend we will get started on our bedroom upstairs. We are finding that wood floors make everything look much more spacious. Our livingroom and dining area should look enormous. We will hire someone to do the stairs and upstairs hall-landing area. I enjoy saying I can do this myself, but this is not an endurance contest, and that will be a really complicated space to do. I'd rather not, thank you.

So as I ponder my utter lack of creativity right now, it may be obvious to the reader, but only slowing dawning on me, that there are so many things to manage right now that creativity has gone on hiatus for the time being. Everywhere I look there is something that needs to be done. When I was single, I ordered my life and household so that there wouldn't be all of these unfinished tasks plus a list of things to do in the future. But now that I share my life with others and have more responsibilities, it's a hard lesson to learn that being compulsive about everything simply doesn't pay.

I passed up a job offer that pays twice what I am paid now, and that would put me in an esteemed school of medicine as director of a collaborative care training program. I recommended one of my recent graduates whom I have been grooming for this kind of work for three years now. He has had three interviews with them thus far, and will have an on site formal interview next week. He is thrilled and so am I. I really didn't want to leave here, since this is a dream job and I hold strong convictions that I belong here.

Even so, there are some steps that I've taken at work to try to improve my working conditions, since people here get worked to death (just as I heard on the street when I interviewed here!): I've asked for a raise at work. I've asked for an assistant who can supervise my interns out in the field. That right there will save me about 10 hours per week. I've asked for a couple grad assistants who will work with me to get things done for my classes and to keep my office paperwork filed, etc. And I've told my boss that I do love him dearly, but I will never work for him as hard as I did last year. Especially since I don't go home with him at night. He laughed and seemed tickled by that, "Give me that ultimatum, Barbara!" he challenged.
I'm planning to work at home--to have a writing day--once per week. Every Friday I will stay home as often as possible. I will also have one clinical day: Tuesday. The other days will be "Run sheep, run!" kind of days.

So as I sit here on the couch in my PJs, my babies curled around my feet on their blanket, Otis on the back of the couch out of their reach, purring, I am lead to think that perhaps this is as good as it will get for awhile. I am not unhappy particularly, just consumed with everything going on at present. Perhaps at some point I will be struck with something clever and interesting to read. Until then, I will do well to check in here.