I’m getting ready to do a little/a lot of travelling the next few weeks — camping this week and up to the cabin next week. It’s not so much escaping my day to day reality (which it kinda is), but it’s a chance to be away from the chatter of TV, loads of laundry, and pandemic protocol.
I can set up blogs ahead of time, stop the mail, and leave three pounds of cat food in the feeder for my pussycat, no problem.
Unfortunately, I can’t take my crafting with me.
I know I will feel guilty sitting around daily, in a fishing boat, on the deck, or around the fire, reading, writing, sketching, visiting, sleeping, doing every thing a vacation is supposed to encourage. All I will be thinking about is the craft fair over Labor Day and if I will have enough product to sell.
What a dope.
That leads to the fear of not selling anything at all. The guilt of having spent money on supplies over and over again, of coercing my family to help out in the booth, and in the end having 300 Angel Tears hanging from my back yard gazebo. The fear of Mass Tanglement from Hell when Tears start wrapping around each other in knots only God can get out.
I wonder if I’m the only one who blows reality out of proportion for no good reason.
I know it won’t be as bad as all that — I am looking forward to getting a fresh look at nature and her beauty. I love the outdoors. I love campfires. I love the cabin and not being far from the water. I love sleeping in and going out for ice cream. And, of course, I love being with my grandkids in both situations.
I just wonder why I waste time stressing about things I have no control over. Work will get done. The laundry pile in the corner isn’t going anywhere. It will wait for my return. As will the housework and yardwork.
And the crafting.
Do you sometimes get carried away with your stress moments?
I’d like to think that’s all just part of being human. Of being passionate about life.
Maybe I just need to take up a more “portable” hobby.