Employment has always been, for me, a matter of getting a job and then showing up at the time it began and performing the tasks at hand to the best of my ability. This was true when I worked at a bike shop in my college days and all through my teaching career. Someone else set the time, and day in and day out it rarely changed. Sure, what happened during those 8 hours (or 10 or 14) was often determined by outside forces and fluctuated, but when I went to bed the night before, I knew the expectations.
Now, well, now it's different though when I try to describe the differences, they are hard to really see. What is clear is that every week has the potential for being different...perhaps every day, too, but for now, I'll just try to explain the week thing. Take, for instance, the latest email from my most current client -- Gemma and her two worried fathers. Unlike my weekly commitments to Lucy (Mondays and Wednesdays) or Monty (Wednesdays and Fridays), Gemma's schedule is dependent upon her one father's work schedule. Since he often must travel out of state for his work, he is gone on an irregular schedule.
This week I was called up for a 3-times-a-week visit and now, it seems, I am asked for a different 3 days next week. Then a week of no visits followed by 2 days the next week. I'm not complaining. I make more money walking their dog than I do at my retail job (which is on an economic downturn hiatus it appears), but it makes for a kind of schedule I am unaccustomed to. There is no clear beginning and no clear ending. Add in my freelance writing obligations and a new, temporary contract advising the yearbook students at my former place of employment every Wednesday, and well, the days can be busily crowded or deadly silent.
So I sit in front of my iCalendar and try to map it out. The other day, with 7 dogs to walk, I literally had to time it out -- these dogs at 9:30, these dogs at 11:30, these dogs at 12:30. Often I am left with little bits of time in between, which are always awkward. I've made a commitment, now that I technically work from home, to not turn on the furnace unless I am here for more than an hour and the thermostat reads less than 58 degrees. (I don't want to spend more money than I make.) On the day of 7 dogs, there were times when I was home for 30 minutes until I had to head out for the next walk. Often sweaty and a bit overdressed for my walks, I cool down quickly and can feel a chill building even with the thermostat hovering at 59 degrees. So I've taken to warming up by doing busy tasks -- organizing the laundry requiring me to run up and down the stairs from the second floor to the basement (27 steps in total) to get my blood flowing or sweeping the hardwood floors of the first floor, requiring me to move rugs and furniture and literally jogging while I push the broom. I can stay warm in a cold house if I work at it -- a kind of sacrafice akin to walking on one's knees or wearing a shirt of hair.
Trying to plan meal prep and cooking time in 15 minutes intervals has been fascinating as well. Yesterday I made Indian curry butternut squash soup. In 15 minute intervals I chopped onions, peeled and chopped the squash, and set out the spices. Pause -- off for a walk with Gemma and Rubin -- and then back at home to cook up the onions, saute the garlic and spices, and set out the chicken broth for my return. Pause -- off for a walk with Chole -- and back in time to set the whole thing boiling. Pause -- off to a meeting at the school to learn about advising yearbook -- and back home to puree the soup in the blender and mix up the cornbread ingredients, place them in an oiled pan, and top with cheese and frozen corn. Set aside to allow the corn and chees to sink into the batter. Pause -- out the door again to shoot photos at the school for both yearbook and my upcoming newsletter article -- then back again to put in the cornbread just in time for Ann's arrival home from her day of teaching.
But that was just yesterday and rereading what I've just written I realize I forgot the exact order of things, but am too lazy to rewrite it all. The point is made. Each day has a schedule, but each schedule is influenced by commitments that can be continuous (some dogs, the laundry, making dinner) while others are a one-time event (like the advisory meeting or the photo shoot or unexpected errands).
Again, I'm not complaining. In fact, this kind of scheduling taps into my slightly OCD tendencies (like counting the number of steps from basement to second floor) and I can feel the order of my life during those focused moments. But it's also very different than how I've lived the first 50 years of my life (god, is it really 50?).
And now I look at the clock and realize I must begin today's schedule -- which includes Monty, Oshi and Perdito, another photo shoot at the school, a writing meeting with my friend, Laurie, finishing the laundry I started yesterday, a stop at the grocery store for some essentials like milk and finding time for my own workout (weights and cycling).
Let it begin.
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