Four Hours

See this here?

My bed.  My books.  My pajama-clad leg.  MY IDEA OF HEAVEN.

And this?

Cool water.  Hot tea.  Good smells.  More books.  MORE BLISS.  

And this?

WORDS!!  ON A PAGE!!  THAT I HAVE WRITTEN MYSELF!

You are peeking into an introvert's DREAM DAY.  Or, rather, this introvert's DREAM FOUR HOURS.  I have four precious hours to read, write, think, and dream this morning, as Jason graciously did the school routine for all four boys, thereby DOUBLING my work time today.  Bliss.  

I can hear the birds.  I can hear the train whistle in the distance.  I can hear the whisper-quiet OVERHEAD FAN, for crying out loud.  I can hear myself THINK! I remember that I actually have thoughts!  I remember THINKING!  Thinking thoughts is quite enjoyable when thoughts can be actually be heard by the thinker. . . . when they aren't drowned out by the lovely and necessary and never-ending needs of the small children in my house.  

Solitude is sadly underrated.  This time is a balm to my soul and will hopefully set me straight for the rest of the day's work. . . . the mundane, the messy, and the LOUD.  Today, solitude is my spot of joy.  This solitude helps me to reset and be ready to roll with the boys when the clock chimes to signal the end of my four hours.  But I don't turn into a pumpkin.  I get back to the work of running this family.

Which, truth be told, is my favorite job.