My husband finally has his dream job. After years of traditional work and wishing, he finally took the plunge and now does his art full-time. He loves it. Really, really loves it. Sometimes I have to tear him away from his drawing to eat. If I didn’t come home from work and remind him that it’s evening, I think he would draw all night. He always looks a bit surprised that the day is gone already.
Believe me, this has a point.
It was maybe a month or so after this transition occurred that the subject came up with Nellie. I’d been hesitant to mention it because she tends to overreact and jump immediately to disastrous conclusions; I was afraid she’d panic for our financial future, seeing only the caricature of the “starving artist.” But the subject couldn’t be avoided forever, and finally I mentioned something about my husband’s working at home now. Happily, she took it all in stride.
“So what is his schedule like?” Nellie was curious. She loves to hear the details of everything--the minutiae that sounds to me like a very boring recitation holds a strange fascination for her. So I told her: we wake up at such and such a time, have breakfast, read Bible, I leave for work and he draws all day long. Walks the dog, maybe, but mostly draws.
Lines of deep thought creased her forehead, and she was quiet for a moment. Then she turned to me and said reproachfully, “Doesn’t he get tired of that? Don’t you ever let him rest?”
