Relaxing

I am somewhat incompetent at relaxing.  Okay, that statement is a bit soft.  I really suck at relaxing.  Just “sitting there” is a problem for me.  You need to remember, I was the kid in grade school who constantly tapped a pencil against the desk and flicked paper wads around the back of the class.  At home, my mother would kick me outside as soon the temperature rose above freezing because I drove her nuts with my chaotic indoor activities.  She never really took a liking to my indoor toy truck demolition derbies or occasional experiments with fire.

Now that I am older (okay, I am actually old), I continually fiddle with silverware, cups, papers, my computer, or anything within reach if am standing or sitting in one place for any length of time.  I cannot even watch television without doing something else at the same time.  My idea of a relaxing weekend is working on my cabin or building something here at the house.

Here is the biggest problem.  Now that I am—let’s go with mature from here—my mind has developed a habit of over-charging and purposely injecting nonsense into my perception if I am just sitting around.  When not keeping myself busy, my mind will do such things as send naked people prancing through my houseplants or transform the numbers and lines on my open checkbook ledger into a rotating two-dimensional carousel.  The other day, as I sat for a bit after exercising, I thought I heard twenty pounds of housecat talking to me.

Frankly, I am little worried about the prospect of a full retirement.

--Mitchell Hegman