It seems like every day I’m presented with some ridiculous choice, having to do with how to spend my time. It’s never anything life changing, but the angst that goes into each choice is worthy of years of analysis. Today, after I brought my son home from camp, in what had been a downpour that caused flash floods, I had to decide whether or not to go out in the rain again to bring him to a dance lesson. To go would mean possibly getting wet all over again, having an even harder time picking him up after the class was over (if the rain kept raining) and trying to figure out how to squeeze in a walk for our new puppy, without feeling guilty about putting her back into her crate after a brief walk and play session. (See, when I write these things down it already seems clear I should have just gone!).
I chose to stay home. The teacher said it was up to me. I hate those words. “It’s up to you. ” I watched an episode of Huge with my son, a tv show about overweight campers. I took a very short nap. When I got up the rain had completely stopped but it was just a little too late to change our minds and head to the second part of the class.
Then, I was wracked with guilt. Guilt worthy of a Sophie’s Choice. I decided that if I was so wimpy to have let rain keep me home I’d better make the most of my time, so I went into my studio. I worked for a while on a rubber glove, writing out Ulysses while still feeling guilty and angry at myself and stupid and annoyed. Then I tried to fix a drawing I’ve been working on for days and days. The drawing is around 5″ x 7″. I can’t seem to get what I want from it. I have already painted over areas, cut it into two parts and reassembled it, almost given up, almost talked myself into thinking it was good. But it’s not good. It’s fussy. I’m going to try one more thing, which is to obliterate all but one part. Sometimes that works, sometimes it just looks like a muddy mess. I hope it works. I need to feel like I made the right choice about something.