At the risk of mixing metaphors, I have gone, seemingly overnight, from being the Energizer Bunny to being The Little Engine That Could. Within the past few days I lost my voice and have felt my life shift into low gear. Not only have I lost the vigor to do everything all the time, I have also slid into giving myself permission to do less. 

One of my gorgeous Amaryllis flowers in bloom right now.

This morning even my usual pot of strong Dynamite coffee didn’t propel me to either the exercise class at the Y that kicked my butt last week or the exercise class for seniors at Lake Tomahawk. Instead I puttered around the house sorting yarn and gathering materials and needles for a new project. I spend forty-five minutes wasting time scanning social media,  smiling at small kittens playing and scowling at George Santos, and finally I left the house. 

Colorful and useful textiles brighten your home and feel so good to use

I wonder whether my malaise is caused by post holiday let down, or whether I am finally admitted to myself that I am closing in on eighty. I sincerely hope that it is a result of holiday hysteria and not the latter. My grandfather on my mother’s side was starting new real estate ventures when he was in his eighties, and my father was still looking for ways to con people when he was one hundred. I come from a long line of over-achievers.

Please buy this cashmere sweater before I take it home!

When he was in his nineties, my father called me from California with a scheme he wanted me to pursue. He explained that if he had not lost his eyesight he would have made good use of the Internet. He loved the notion of scamming people without having to actually lay eyes on them, so for him, the internet was a godsend. He explained that I should get on the web and offer people “A Bag of Grass for $5.” Then I should go outside and cut some grass from the yard and send it to the sucker when I received the money. It was a “No-brainer. They can’t say you didn’t fulfill your promise! It wasn’t the “grass” they wanted, but it was grass after all.” He believed that he was the smartest man in the world, and he could not fathom why I refused his ideas. I must be the stupidest person in the world. 

Cherokee artist, print of a bear hanging over large African handmade baskets

Now I am not only stupid, but I am also lazy. And do you know what? It kind of feels good. Less stress.

Looking for something for Valentine’s Day? Come to Chifferobe!