What, no comments here? My excuse for not commenting on this is that I've been on vacation. I was taking your advice without realizing it. Everything you say about the over-valuation of busy time is true. At least it seems true to me. I was just saying to a friend on the phone yesterday: I have a really hard time relaxing. Whenever I veg out, I involuntarily start telling myself I should be doing something: do something useful! It's a compulsion that's bred into me, a boomer from a long WASPy line of hard workers. My parents came of age during the depression. My father and my uncles all fought in WW2. The idea of there's some sort of benefit to be found in goofing off never would've got much play with my family. As I write this, the memories of the chores and yard work I detested as a shy skinny bookish youth come bubbling up. Perhaps that's why I was so useless and so poor in my twenties. But no! Even after I left home the work ethic had its hold on me. I used to take the first job I could find, whatever appeared before me; ditch digger, landscaper, dish washer, house painter, laborer, waiter (I was a terrible waiter) and eventually taxi driver which felt so cushy compared to those other ones, I stuck with it for years. Yes, idleness is sweetness. Let the clover grow. I wholeheartedly agree with you though I still have difficulty following your sound advice.
What, no comments here? My excuse for not commenting on this is that I've been on vacation. I was taking your advice without realizing it. Everything you say about the over-valuation of busy time is true. At least it seems true to me. I was just saying to a friend on the phone yesterday: I have a really hard time relaxing. Whenever I veg out, I involuntarily start telling myself I should be doing something: do something useful! It's a compulsion that's bred into me, a boomer from a long WASPy line of hard workers. My parents came of age during the depression. My father and my uncles all fought in WW2. The idea of there's some sort of benefit to be found in goofing off never would've got much play with my family. As I write this, the memories of the chores and yard work I detested as a shy skinny bookish youth come bubbling up. Perhaps that's why I was so useless and so poor in my twenties. But no! Even after I left home the work ethic had its hold on me. I used to take the first job I could find, whatever appeared before me; ditch digger, landscaper, dish washer, house painter, laborer, waiter (I was a terrible waiter) and eventually taxi driver which felt so cushy compared to those other ones, I stuck with it for years. Yes, idleness is sweetness. Let the clover grow. I wholeheartedly agree with you though I still have difficulty following your sound advice.