So “Me Time” yesterday turned out to be a failure. Or a success. It depends on how you look at it, I suppose. It was Chore Time. Can Chore Time be Me Time?
I had two hours entirely to myself. The city at my feet. A car, even. I walked around a bit, had an iced coffee, and ended up… doing yardwork. Now, I did it while listening to a podcast I really like, which is something.
At the end of the day, I couldn’t bear to be inside, which is where most of my happy hobbies are. I didn’t really want to get out on the water at the moment. And ultimately, the lawn needed tending and the yard waste needed bagging. So there y’go. My me time was yard work, and a bit of coding for a side project I’m nurturing after letting it incubate in my head for almost a year.
Is chore time me time, if I want to do the chores?
I don’t know if this is a terrible symptom of (finally) growing up, but I chose chores. As I was saying to my wife later, I would have felt just stupid to be cooped up indoors during the glorious weather we were having. But most of my outdoor options would have involved a lot of driving, a lot of energy getting somewhere, or spending money I don’t have. So doing something with the satisfaction of knowing I would be happy to have it done won out.
This all feels eerily responsible and sane.