This Labor Day indeed has been laborious, but not in terms of actual labor. The soaring temperature which is setting record highs across California is bringing the usual weekend activity in this home to a grinding halt. The few tasks that are getting done, are completed at a snail’s pace, or abandoned altogether. Both cats are flattened into rugs and comatose: Julio in the shower and Romeo in front of the living room fan.
Last Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, the Census had no cases for me. I retaliated by making myself unavailable for the entire Labor Day Holiday. And that with only a whisper of compunction. Driving around in heat clocking over 106 degrees would have done me in.
In my seventies, I find myself still worrying that “others” will think badly of me. I harbor thoughts of not holding up my end, and of other people thinking me unreliable. The truth is that I am unreliable: I am unreliable to myself, and fake reliability to others.
I feel such unease about doing only what I want to do, because I don’t trust myself to do the right thing. I have already proved I do not “do the right thing” anyway so I may as well stop splitting my energy. I can’t clean up what was done: I can choose my state of consciousness (reference Neville Goddard).
My Labor Day toil consisted of mapping the electrical circuits in this place and labeling the circuits in the junction box. As a result of this exercise, I concluded that the job I thought I could do myself will have to be done by a licensed electrician. Although my research on You Tube informed me about the “principle of the thing,” my attempts to fix the failed circuit in my bedroom would be hazardous. This is a case where spending money on expertise is the least expensive route to restored electricity.