Here's the scoop: September 4, 2013

They call me Mr. Social
Misery loves company. Or is it: Company creates misery? Both, I guess.
Personally, I like company. In moderation.
We seem to go in spurts where we have a lot of visitors over a short period of time. Who knew that sitting on the porch enjoying an icy beverage could be so exhausting?
Maybe it’s not the leisure time that’s tiring. I think it’s the “lack of routine” that really throws me out of whack. For instance, I’m used to setting up the coffee machine to brew four cups. When caffeine-chugging guests are here, changing the coffee machine measurements takes some adaptation for me. If the guests are the type who use sugar, getting that ready adds a whole new dimension to my day. And not a good one.
Sure, these are minor shifts in my routine, but I am kind of set in my ways. Inflexible some might say. And some do.

Jolly Ol’ Me
Even more difficult for me is the task of “being social.” I like to dole out my charm in small doses — very tiny amounts most of the time. So, expecting me to be witty and cordial for days on end is a big commitment. I often fail.
These traits have nothing to do with my fondness for our guests. In general, if people are invited to stay, I like them. It’s a pretty good guideline to follow. I guess it’s just in that famous tune, I like doing things “My Way.” It’s hard for me to change my daily way of doing things.
Faithful readers know that I spend an inordinate amount of time raking, hauling and generally staring at rocks (figuring out where to haul them after raking!). When company arrives, this hobby comes to a halt. One guest this weekend, apparently clued in beforehand to my pastime), actually volunteered, “I’ll help move rocks or whatever.” That offer remained in place — until my sociability expired and I actually had an overwhelming urge to find new homes for a bunch of rocks. So, I did move rocks. Lots of them. All sizes.
Honestly, our guest’s offer was nice, but I truly don’t expect visitors to join me in my Rock Relocation Project. It’s kind of a solitary pursuit, anyhow.
Call me selfish (many have), but I like to plan my own itinerary for days off. Most weekends, the schedule calls for a refreshing nap — in the hammock or lounge in the summer, on the couch in front of the fireplace in the winter. A comfortable pillow is the only other requirement.
The good news about our guests last weekend was that one of them was also a big fan of napping. Maybe he was just tired. Or maybe he also has limits to his “social time.” No matter, it worked out well as my naps were held on schedule and no one was offended.
Let me tell you, there’s nothing like a nap on a warm summer’s day. I sure enjoyed my weekend snooze time — resting like a baby. Rocked to sleep, if you will.
— Brian Sweeney