Itís not that I ran out of work to do today. Thatís not why I quit early. No, I quit early because I ran out of work that couldnít be put off until tomorrow.
Besides, Iím getting ready for Christmas. Seriously. Iíve been informed that this yearís family holiday dinner will be held at my house, and, well, itís along way from being ready to receive company. I wouldnít want a pack of unkempt vagabond ragamuffins to spend a day in my house in its current state, much less the people I care about most in the world.
Sure, itís more than three months away, but thereís more than three monthsí worth of work to do. Especially at the pace I tend to do this kind of work.
The accumulated clutter of months and years of never throwing anything away was the first object of my holy wrath. I wheeled the giant blue recycle container to my front door and starting throwing things in it. Lots of unopened mail, of course, but also unread issues of magazines I never should have subscribed to in the first place. What good does the 2004 football preview do me now anyway? Plus, I broke down some Amazon boxes that had been piling up on my bedroom floor.
I didnít get the container completely full, but I made it almost too heavy to wheel out to the curb tomorrow night, so I guess I did my job.
Then I tackled the blackberry bramble that has gradually taken over my back porch. I havenít been able to go out my back door for weeks, and Iíve noticed mice scurrying back and forth in the shadows under the vines, so I thought it was time to get things in order. There was no way I could get to the roots until I started hacking away at the vines themselves, and it was way too much like work to suit me.