Busy Hands

It’s been busy since getting back from Kansas City. I’ve been working full weeks to make up for the missing manpower in the office. We lost two people recently and it’s only down to myself, the supervisor and a volunteer that comes in twice a week (and stays a couple of hours). As ironic luck would have it, we’re busier now than ever.

Mind you, this is not a complaint. I’ll work the extra time until they get at least one more worker. It’s a cool organization and I like the people but I’d rather not do this all week. My dog would also like to see more of me. She definitely gets a vote.

Am I getting lazy as I get older or is it the mere preference of work? I’ve got a client that I design and manage a website for (along with a few social apps) and he keeps me somewhat busy and I certainly would rather do that stuff on my off days of Thursday and Friday rather than Saturday or Sunday. It’s also the type of thing I’d rather do…the half and half seems to be the right recipe. 

My work ethic at the office is always let’s get to it. Generally, my days go by quick because I dive into it and stay the course while catching a few curve balls that come my way. The busy hands always keep moving. I don’t feel it’s a lazy thing when I’m in there and doing it but when I’m home and thinking about it I wonder. And I know where the question comes from.

The question comes from the father that worked three jobs to put his kids through school. Antonio Plaza would take his sons to help on occasion and the result was never good enough for him as if the cement floors of a basement had to absolutely shine. It didn’t seem to matter how hard I tried.

As an adult, I feel I work hard but what sticks out is when I see others quite obviously not working or more precisely going at a pace more consistent with sleepwalking. I saw this plenty when I worked in the government and was continually told by others, “take it easy”, or “how many hands do you have?” The work will be there the next day and the next and the next. They have an excellent point and this is from folks making good competitive money in an expensive city. 

I can acknowledge that and can accept that we all don’t work the same. That said, I can’t change me, in that regard. Playing pop psychology, I do believe some of that early personal programming, whether intentional or not is like cement for me. It’s hard and unmoving. I’m tired at the end of the day but satisfied (for whatever reason).

I always think of this weird dream I had a few times after my father died. We’re in this big house after he calls me in from being outside. He is leading me throughout the house and it is absolutely shiny clean. There is no furniture with the exception of a strange activity near each of the windows. He keeps quietly waving me over to come closer and I follow him around the house, while sneaking peeks at the windows. There are hands and arms working on something…in fact, the arms aren’t attached to a body. They float free but are constantly working on something invisible. Every window in this house has a set of floating hands and arms working on something. Suddenly, I lose where we went and I can’t find an exit. That’s when I awake.