I got a lot done because I didn’t waste time commuting to town and back. No one ever regards commuting as being a waste of time because they are either anticipating getting to their immediate or not so immediate destination, or they are anticipating getting home.
Anticipation is illusory. You know you aren’t getting anything done as you drive, but you compensate for this by thinking about the immediate future and what it holds. I am as guilty of this as anyone. Fortunately, I have a short commute.
I am being urged to move the project to Wasilla, where a church will take us in with open arms. I am being resistant because I don’t want the extended commute. I’d also end up coming home in the dark, and as well, end up having to deal with snow. I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. I’d much rather wrangle with the powers that be over at the Meeting House than spend more time in my automobile.
And right now, gas prices are again high. This is why I carpool as often as possible with Pete. I feel as though I’m throwing money away every time I fill up the tank.
I used to bicycle everywhere. And briefly, when we moved here, I continued to bicycle. The distance from our place to anywhere proved to be too great, so I became a car driver. This is my greatest regret about moving here. Bicycling is not at all like car driving, which is a waste of time, because you are a part of the outer landscape. It’s also one of the best ways to get exercise.
So, yeah, I stayed home. I worked in my writing cabin, sorting books and then moving the ten remaining boxes of books in the goat shed into this space. I then sorted through and macro-organized my own books. I have quite a bit of work left to do, but soon enough, it’ll be done.
I then cleaned the goat pen. It was a tougher job than usual because I put it off longer than I should have. I would have got to it sooner, but I spent too much time commuting.
Pete gave me an assist, after, moving the bags of manure and spent hay as well the muck buckets that held the same, down to the compost stations. He removed the pallets and pushed the steaming compost back up against the far wall so that I’d have more room for dumping fresh manure.
Tonight, I began sorting books in my workspace. A tough task – I don’t want to part with any of them. But unless I do this, I will end up having book corridors.
Next: 290. 10/22/22: Books Coming and Going