Weeder is not in my wheelhouse. Been there and don't want to do it anymore. At least not on any grand scale like I used to do for a while during my summer work interims between college quarters. For a couple of summers I worked on a construction yard with a couple of other college guys picking up money during summer vacation. Weeding was hot tiring work, but there were those times when it wasn't all that bad thanks to the banter among us college boys. Then there were the times where I was left to my own thoughts as I hacked down those weeds with my scythe. A tractor would have been better, but the company had us to do the work manually so there we were. It was okay for a couple of summers in my youth, but not something I would have wanted to do for long.
Warehouse worker became more my thing after a couple of weedy summers. I found a summer job at a carnival supply warehouse in Knoxville TN and stayed on with them for a few years. It was great for me since the peak working period was during the summer months when I was off from school. The rest of the year I would just come in when I could and the company was okay with that. They liked me and I was a good worker for them. I was hired on as an Assistant Manager (because I was in college), but I did plenty of hard work like loading and unloading trucks and stacking the incoming merchandise. I came to love warehouses during those years and would come back to that scenario in a costume and Halloween supply company in my final working years before our warehouse closed and I was pushed into retirement.
The thing that drew me to blogging after that retirement was my love of writing. Since middle school I had begun dreaming of being a writer. Over the years I've plied my writing skills mainly for my own amusement, but having a blog somehow gave my writing a place to be put on display for anyone to read. Someday I'd like to go beyond my blog and actually publish something of substance. I love to write, but I think I would like it even more if I were paid to do it. However that's on me. I need to amp up my ambitions and do some serious writing.
Or I could do some walking. Years ago I started dreaming of walking across America and maybe beyond. I actually started to do it a couple of times, but then I found an excuse to go back home to comfort. I like to walk, but I also like being home. Maybe I'll just be a walker who walks around my neighborhood or my house. That seems like enough walking for me at my age. But who knows--the dream of walking a long distance still remains in the back of my mind. That's where that dream will likely stay.
Do like the environment of a warehouse? How is your writing career going? What is the longest distance you've walked?
Longest walk? Ten miles? Total would be much more than that though as I usually get over twenty thousand steps a day.
ReplyDeleteI've had a few warehouse jobs but it's not my cup of tea. Writing on the other hand is my thing. Last year, after 25 years of writing short stories and novels, I decided to call myself a writer and I launched my ghostwriting side hustle. During the pandemic it was my only source of income. My 8th novel will be released early next year and I have hundreds of short story publication credits, but I'm still wandering around in the forest of obscurity.
ReplyDeletehttps://dacairns.com.au/blog/f/a-to-z-blogging-challenge-w
Longest walk I ever took was almost 13 years ago. I didn't have a step county at the time, but a conservative estimate is thirteen miles, round trip.
ReplyDeleteI actually do like the environment of a warehouse. I was an Inventory specialist and spent lots of time in warehouses.
ReplyDeleteWriting career? It's going. God only knows where, but it's going.
Furthest I walked was eight miles. I rode home on the taxi and got there after all the cabs had gone home for the night. I ran into a friend of mine, who said he was going to walk home (he lived about as far from the train station as I did), so I walked with him. It was about 3 AM when I got home, and I had no trouble getting to sleep. Next morning, Mom is chewing me out, and I told here that she told me no one would be home to get me, so I walked home. Then I was her poor boy...