Go About It In An Orderly Fashion

I ran into a dear friend at the post office and asked him if he thinks I'm too old to have a life, as in a REAL life, not just a job and home, work and sleep, ad nauseum. 

As we walked to our respective vehicles on packed snow and ice, I told him, "I think I want to expand my horizons, you know?"

He responded that he thought that was a great idea, paused as he was getting into his vehicle, and added, "Just go about it in an orderly fashion!" 

I answered, "Well you know me!  I always do!" and let go with a big belly laugh because he does know me and I NEVER do, apparently. 

Even so, there is almost always a method to my madness, which I cleverly conceal behind seemingly random and irrational behaviors. 

For instance, at the moment I am in the process of essentially giving away my 'good' house so that I can move half a block away into my 'tumble down cottage', which is quite truthfully a literal wreck of a place.  It's one of those apparently irrational behaviors that reinforce the idea that I am indeed a bonified lunatic. 

Explaining the method behind this madness here on my blog is not likely to blow my cover, as nobody even knows about it, let alone reads it! 

Nobody knows about me giving my house away except a few people at work (one of whom is the buyer) and none of them are confidants of any of my family or people who know me here in my Small Town USA.  The first indication they'll have is when they see my furniture being carted halfway down the block to my studio and the buyer's furniture being carted across the street into my house.  Since all three places are right on Main Street in the first block as you come into town, it's likely to be noticed by all and sundry.  We might get a couple of comments but more people will just shake their heads, maybe smile, and drive on by.  That's just the way it is.  People get used to the strangest things around here and don't bother themselves about it. 

As for the method behind the madness, to get back to the point here, that has to do with being ready, willing, and able to do whatever it takes to get through a Dakota Winter. 

In this case, the factor under consideration is 'happiness'. 

If I'm going to make it through this Dakota Winter intact I'm going to need every vestive of an edge that I can find and hang on to.  For me, the peace and serenity that envelopes me at my studio is more than a vestige of an edge; it's vital, a necessity.  I barely made it through the last couple of winters.  The prospect of this one frightens me in an elemental way.  The long dark of a Dakota Winter must be countered with something more powerful than a listless and vague hope for survival.  While the instinct for survival is a force in and of itself, it is not undauntable.  Dakota Winters are bloody well DAUNTING. 

Happiness is perhaps the most powerful weapon at our disposal with which to battle forces beyond our control.  Part of my edge right now is knowing what I need to do and, perhaps more important, the ability to DO it.  The studio is haunted; I'd much rather be haunted than daunted, so part of Plan A is for me to put that haunting to good use and exorcise the daunting darkness of this Dakota Winter.  That's the happiness factor. 

It's not that I'm UNhappy here at my 'good' house.  It's that I'm MORE COMPLETELY happy at my studio, and I'm going to be needing that feeling of serenity with which the studio is haunted.  It's a tool I want, and need, to put to use this winter. 

Hence giving my 'good' house away to a young mother with two little ones.  I was in her boat once upon a time and God saw fit to bless my little family with a home of our own - the studio.  I've kept it all these years, empty for a good many of them, and perhaps this is the reason.  Perhaps it's another turn of the wheel as things come full circle.  Who am I to question the mysterious ways of things?  All I know is that it feels right, it feels good, and that's enough to guide me. 

There are other parts of Plan A which are also parts of every other plan of any letter of the alphabet.  These are the tea and vitamins, sleep and eat patterns, using my brain (what's left of it) to the best of my ability, etc. 

The thing is that all the parts have to fit together right or nothing will work right. 

The factor that concerns me at the moment is the sleep/eat factor. 

Because I have to work some nights at my job, and 3-11 pm on other days, my systems are all mixed up.  I can't do nights only (which would presumably provide a stable schedule) because I can't get my systems to settle into that schedule.  For months I tried doing nights only.  It didn't work.  The schedule person at work then finally gave me SOME 3-11 shifts, but with the nights still mixed into the equation.  That definitely does NOT work.  My systems are so screwed up and confused I can't think straight half the time and the other half of the time I'm either sleeping or feel comatose. 

I hate to be the one to break the news here, but THAT is not LIFE.  It's barely survival.  If I've been barely surviving my scheudule during the good part of the Dakota year, what does that say about my chances during the long dark of a Dakota Winter? 

See what I mean? 

As soon as my friend with the little ones says the word (the word is 'yes'), I can get my things and myself moved, removing that stressor completely from the equation and replacing it with its antithesis.  Out with worry and stress, in with peace and serenity - for both of us as a matter of fact.  Well, I'm not sure how much peace and serenity she's liable to have with two little kids running around, but they're darned sure to enjoy the running room and playing room.  At any rate, both of us will be getting what we want and what else really matters?  It's a win-win. 

As soon as I'm sure this house is going into caring and loving hands, and my stuff and I are securely settled in the studio, I can address the work schedule issue. 

It may well be that the happiness factor of the studio will balance the negative of the schedule.  Plus the fact that I do have a Plan B ready to implement on a moment's notice may well provide the needed incentive for the scheduling person to get me off nights, in which case Plan A will work wonderfully well. 

At this point I'm willing to give it my best shot, with the stipulation that if my best shot proves to be insufficient I'll go immediately to Plan B. 

So that's where it stands at the moment.  The next few days will have a lot to say I believe. 

If that's not an orderly fashion I don't know what is.