I don’t work on Mondays. I used to but really didn’t like getting back in work mode after the weekend. So, now I don’t work on Mondays because I don’t have to. I don’t work on Tuesday, either. Actually, I don’t work any day. I just “do stuff” that may appear to be work but, since I don’t get paid, it’s not work. Since I don’t get paid, I can just stop doing stuff any time I want but, oddly, that never seems to happen. Doing stuff is satisfying. Doing stuff right, is exhilarating. Doing stuff on a regular basis keeps me out of trouble with my first wife.

Doing stuff on my days off only works if Diane doesn’t have something planned, like me doing stuff for her. That happens a lot and that’s OK. I love doing stuff for her. Sometimes she gives me stuff to do when she’s gone doing stuff outside the house, leaving me alone, unsupervised. She’s learned to only give me stuff to do that only involves one thing because having multiple kinds of stuff to do usually ends up with some of the stuff not getting done. I used to get in trouble for that a lot in the past and it created a situation where supervision was necessary to ensure all the stuff got done. Trust me, it’s not a good thing when it takes two people to get stuff done when only one of them is doing stuff. I guess that the supervisor is also doing stuff in her efforts to keep me on track for doing stuff for her.

Having a routine of doing the same stuff at the same time on every one of my days off has resulted in far fewer scoldings for not getting stuff done and that makes my life much nicer. It’s better for Diane, too, because she’s concerned that not getting all my stuff done is a sign that dementia is lurking somewhere in my little brain. I can’t deny that I forget stuff but my excuse for that is I only remember important stuff. As for stuff being important, or not, it’s subjective because the stuff that’s important to me is probably not important to someone else. To complicate that, importance of some stuff changes in the blink of an eye and can cause a great deal of chaos.

For instance, I find it important to know where the closest bathroom is at all times but that’s not important to many others who are younger and have a more accommodating bladder than I do. That’s only one example, but I suspect you understand what I mean. As we get older stuff changes, and the important stuff evolves and moves up on the priority scale causing less important stuff to move down. Sadly, some of the stuff that moves down is probably still important to others so there’s a risk of offending them by focusing on your new important stuff. An example might be that you have an emergent need to visit a toilet, and speed is the critical element for success. If there are lots of people around, you may find it necessary to plow you way through them to reach your destination. In this instance, you might forget that it’s polite to excuse yourself each time you run into someone, but politeness has taken a back seat to the need for speed. This generally leaves many people in their wake shouting vulgar epithets at them as they race to their goal. It’s times like this that makes me wish that I could encounter some of those offended people when their older and in a similar predicament. I think I would help clear a path for them, if I’m able, because I’m totally immune to epithets of any kind. I just do stuff that needs to be done. You know?

I think that’s enough of that stuff and should move on. If you actually read to this point, I applaud you. I started reading it myself and only made it halfway through before deciding it was a waste of time.

I hope all is well with you and that you have only simple stuff ruling your lives.

Peace.