I'm not the kind of guy to wallow in
leisure. Sure, I can goof off with the best of them. I judiciously
guard my slacker credentials, but I do reach a point of feeling guilt
when I go more than a couple of days without doing something
productive. This is particularly true if there are things that I have
left unfinished.
Imagine my level of discomfort, staring
at the unfinished ceiling in my great room every time I crank back in
my recliner. It still needs painted, the trim added and the light
fixtures installed. Then there's the upstairs hallway where I need to
install the sliding barn door for the bathroom and put down the new
wood floor. I've had the paint and light fixtures for the great room
for three months. I've had the door, hardware and wood flooring for
the hallway for longer than that.
I hate leaving projects half finished.
It bugs me. However, with every renovation project requiring more
than a day or two, I reach a point where I can exhale, feeling a
degree of accomplishment in completing a big step in the overall
process. That's the point I reached in the hallway when I completed
its ceiling. And, it's the point I reached in the great room when I
got all the tongue-and-groove beadboard nailed up. I needed a
breather after both those steps.
But, now it's been three or four months
since I picked up a nail gun or turned a screw. I'm feeling guilty.
This is compounded by the fact that I have just completed the second
week in a three-week travel-free period. Three entire weeks at home!
That just doesn't happen. I'll be here nearly all of next week, too.
My oh my.
Yes, I have been cranking out two or
three paying stories each week for my biggest client. But even that
doesn't seem like enough coming off December, which was my worst
revenue-generating month in more than a year and a half. I have some
serious catching up to do.
I feel lucky not to be joining many of
my peers in Detroit this week for media days in advance of the
opening of the North American International Auto Show (NAIAS), or
what most of us call, the Detroit Auto Show. Or, what I call, hell on
earth. A few unveilings have already occurred, but the bulk of the
press conferences will be Monday and Tuesday of this week. I am so
glad to be covering the show from the warm, cozy confines of my
in-home office. I will be generating some income writing about
several of the vehicles introduced there without enduring the pain of
actually being there. And, make no mistake: It's painful!
Think of three or four thousand
jackasses stampeding from one end of the show hall to the other every
15 or 20 minutes for the next big reveal. Half these people are to
automotive media what the accordion is to chamber music. My dead cat
could get credentialed for the Detroit show. Each press conference is
like a rugby scrum. Teasing the attending press by providing seating
for maybe 5 percent of the crowd, the carmakers create Black
Friday-like mob scenes when they begin passing out whatever giveaways
they are providing.
Media days for this show ought to be
treated like a White House presser with a pool photographer and
videographer. Everyone else could just stay home, rather than
climbing over a thousand lunatics fighting over a table full of ball
caps.
Yep, I'm glad not to be in Detroit.
I'll make a little money Monday and
Tuesday writing about the show, but then what? It will be a short
spurt of activity followed by three days of recovering and beating
myself up because I'm not sufficiently motivated to return to one of
my house projects.
I am doomed to this period of self
loathing. Of course, it could be worse. I could finish out the week
kicking myself in the ass for wasting three days in Detroit. Now that
would be a real tragedy.
