I remember when I was younger, in my teens/20’s/30’s, thinking about the hobbies and interests of my parents. My dad, now deceased, was always tinkering with something or working in the garden or on some project he’d read about. My mom was sewing, knitting, cooking, mending, or often talking on the phone to a friend or relative. I remember thinking, dear gawd what boring lives!
Here I am, in my 50’s now, and what do I do in my free time? I’m always tinkering with something, or working on my raised planters, dabbling in hydroponics, or in my shop building something. I’d like to be more exciting. I’d like to be a hiker or a beach-goer but damn if don’t find myself not wanting to expend the energy to drive to the beach or the trail-head or some other place. And besides, there’s no end to the projects around the house, so its just easier to stay home.
It makes me wonder if my mom and dad also wanted to be more exciting people but felt obligated to the responsibilities of parents, homeowners, and eventually grandparents. It makes me mildly angry at myself for being complicit with my own lack of ambition. I think about going snorkeling or bike-riding, and then I think of how sore I’m going to be the next day, and how it wouldn’t be worth it since I’m never going to make a habit out of it. So I stay home and stay boring. Oh well, who gives a damn! I enjoy tinkering and building stuff.Recommended3 recommendationsPublished in