I'm working some hours right now.
Seven days a week where the short day, Sunday, is only about six hours.
But I remember the nine months out of work and out of a home where I searched desperately for stuff to do during the long days. I can work. That's never been a problem. When COVID hit, my 10-12 hours days turned into 12-14 hours a day.
Sometimes, checking pages late in the evening, I'd fall asleep in the cushy chair in my newspaper apartment only to be awakened by the feeling of my laptop sliding sliding down my legs, on to my feet.
Then I would stagger to bed.
So I don't mind the work and I'm not complaining. Instead, I'm thankful to do something I love.
Right now, in addition to my two newspapers and one magazine, I'm helping out at two other newspapers where we're down staff. That work hit me this week all at the same time.
I only have one more magazine to put out for the rest of the year now all the regional visitors have returned home.
I have a friend coming from my last newspaper who's coming to visit in early October and then I'm off to get my stuff, which will allow me to turn my rental house into a home.
After that, kid visits for Christmas.
Life is good.
Peace unto all of you my brothers and sisters.