My Pickleball Addiction Has All But Crushed My Creative Pursuits
I have little time now for painting, writing, or knitting
I sit in my white velour bathrobe sipping black coffee in the chair designated as mine in the living room, my reading tablet on my lap, my knitting across from me on the coffee table, my watercolor paper taped to the drawing board in my studio awaiting paint, myriad ideas for personal essays or articles to write mingling in my brain.
I check my calendar and see that I have no medical, legal, or financial appointments, no friends with whom I am scheduled to have lunch, no errands to run in town. Great! Which creative thing will I do first?
I recently celebrated my eightieth birthday and I am retired, so this could occur on almost any day of the week.
Before I can decide, I hear a chime on my phone notifying me I have a new text message. It is from one of the many new friends I have met since I began to play pickleball a little more than a year and a half ago.
“Want to play at 1:00?” she has typed. I check the weather app on my phone. The weather will be perfect for it.
“ Sure!”I type back to her.
I look at the clock. 9:30. Three hours ’til I have to leave for the courts. I decide I will write.
