Working as medicine.

I didn't miss working at the store at first.  But now that I'm going into my third year of taking so much time off, I'm really starting to notice it.  I look forward to the days I do work.

I miss talking to people -- who I consider friends, really -- at the store.  I miss the random surprising conversations.

I can tell that Matt and Cameron have developed a clientele of their own, and this is good.  It may be my imagination, but they seem younger.  It's all good, that way.

But I'm such an independent cuss that I could easily spend all my time alone, except to pop up and cuddle with my wife and cat. 

Not good for me.  Isolation breeds isolation. 

The store is doing well.  It may be about the first time in our history that we have the product lines in place, the cash-flow to keep the inventory up, and enough growth to feel comfortable.  Gee, it only took 35 years.  And who knows how long it will last?

Anyway, I have no intention of changing things.  I need the time to write, basically.  Hell, it takes me a day to get over every day I work, so it would definitely cut into my writing time if I worked more days.

But I see work as good for me.  Taking my medicine, if you will.