Many years ago when I was still employed and got paid to write, the company for which I worked administered the Myers-Briggs personality test to its employees. The company was big on personality and motivational testing. For a bit of time, they actually printed the Myers-Briggs personality type next to the employees’ names on the internal phone list. Knowing the personality score of the person you were calling was supposed to enhance communication. Failed experiment.
I don’t remember what the test indicated my personality was (ESPN? IPAD? ETSY?), but I remember it was the one where the person requires being around other people in order to be energized and motivated.
I knew immediately that was incorrect because being around a lot of people absolutely WEARS ME OUT. I want to go behind a tree and hide. I like people, but then I just need some quiet time to unwind. I quickly figured out that the reason my score was so skewed was that I had answered the questions the way I wanted my personality to be instead of the way it actually was. I lied to both Myers and Briggs.
All of this is to say that when Bill left early yesterday morning to spend the day watching NASCAR with my brother, I danced a little jig as soon as they were out of the driveway. Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband and enjoy spending time with him. It’s just that when we are in Arizona, due to the small size of our house and the fact that we only have one car, we spend probably 90 percent of our time within sight of one another.
I had the entire day ahead of me to do WHATEVER I WANTED. Heaven.
Here’s how my day went….
I decided to start with a walk. Bill and I exercise regularly, but since he’s taken to working on the outdoor kitchen he’s building from the twitter of the first mockingbird at dawn until I drag him in for dinner, exercise has been put on the back burner temporarily. In fact, Saturday morning he was eyeing the electric drill and the power saw hungrily at 7 o’clock in the morning. I knew if he started power tools at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, our neighbor (who you might remember is often naked or nearly naked; if you don’t remember, read this…) might come storming over, and we definitely didn’t want that. I took him out to breakfast instead.
Anyhoo, yesterday, I set off on a two-mile trek.
Almost immediately, a man about my age came out of his driveway and started walking as well. I figured I would lose him when I turned west towards Superstition Mountain, but nope, he went the same direction, just a bit ahead of me.
As we walked, it became apparent that I was walking about a millionth of a second faster than he. What to do, what to do? I knew I would eventually overtake him, but oh so slowly. Should I just let it happen naturally, which would likely result in him being creeped out as I slowly inch toward him? Or should I bolt ahead of him at an unnatural and uncomfortable pace? I elected a version of the latter.
I raised my arms and began swinging them like a runner, up near my heart. I pretended to be a power walker – walk, walk, swing, swing – until I surpassed him. I kept up the charade for about 10 minutes until I was safely passed him, and then slowed down to a comfortable pace. Crisis averted.
Food choice also dominated my lovely quiet day. Now, understand, Bill never complains about what I cook, and he almost always goes along with where I want to eat, despite the fact that I groan every time he chooses the dining place – always pizza. But yesterday I could eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted as much as I wanted.
Sushi for lunch, grilled salmon for dinner. See what I mean? No meat on Friday is no sacrifice for me.
I’ve mentioned before that I heartily dislike housekeeping, and put it off as long as I can. In fact, it would be safe to say that Bill does much, if not most, of the housecleaning. But yesterday, on that day by myself, I spent an hour-and-a-half cleaning house. I turned on my ipod, set it to shuffle my country songs, and played it loud and sang along while I cleaned. Dusted, scrubbed floors, changed bedsheets, did three loads of wash, sang along with Scotty McCreery and Taylor Swift (back in the olden days when she was country).
And then there were the movies. While I persuade Bill to go to places of my choosing to eat, I don’t even try to talk him into watching chick movies. So I watched three movies yesterday afternoon that he wouldn’t want to see – Mystic Pizza (have I mentioned I love Julia Roberts?), Stand By Me, and The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, which I plumb forgot is probably my favorite movies of all time.
All in all, a totally pleasant and quiet day.