by Pa Rock
I'm old enough that the days seem to fly by. I manage to stay very busy at my job, and like the rest of America, I live for the weekends. Unfortunately, the weekends also seem to fly by.
As mentioned in an earlier blog, I am busy retyping my old newspaper genealogy column, Rootbound in the Hills, into a blog format that I will then carefully index six ways from Sunday. There are two-hundred-and-forty-two individual columns in the set, and each is loaded with specific dates, unusual surnames, and strange place locations from the last century that all require careful transcribing and proof-reading. I am also copying from the original clippings, which were banged out by newspaper workers in small towns who didn't have the luxury of working slowly - so I am encountering many spelling mistakes and obvious errors. It is not a chore for the faint-of-heart.
In order to get this project done in my lifetime, I have set a rigorous schedule and am trying very hard to stick to it. I retype one column every weekday evening, and three each Saturday and Sunday. That comes to eleven a week. This morning I just finished number seventy-five, and should be through number seventy-seven by the time I collapse into bed tonight.
The day will also include weekly grocery shopping, a trip to the gym, and a sojourn to Best Buy so they can fix a mess that I made while trying to load a software program onto my new computer. Sunday will be much the same, but the shopping will be replaced with household chores such as doing the laundry and any necessary cleaning. I don't have people or pets to pick up after, but I do have a couple of dozen plants that require regular nurturance and occasional bit of light conversation. If I have letters to write, that usually happens on Sunday also. And then I also try to post to this Ramble most days.
I have considered having a nervous breakdown, but there just isn't time!