Years of repetition has spawned the question, “can you make me a dozen of those?” From entertainer to decorator I transform. Sitting in my chair, balloons sprawled all out in disarray, I sit and twist. Periodically, a voice on the TV draws me in like a moth to a flame. Time marches by. I take a cookie break and looking out the window to see if any of the snow is sticking to the ground. Nope, not yet, time to sit back down and twist.
I become like a kid with dyslexic ADD. I just cannot sit there twisting, drawing, and stacking. I need the spotlight, the oohs and aahs from the crowd, but sadly, my job tonight is to sit here and twist balloons.
Earlier in the week, my wife asked if I could make 21 snowmen for our son’s kindergarten class. She is helping with my son’s Christmas party and thought it would be nice if each child received a snowman. When my son was in preschool, she had me make 20 teddy bears for Valentine’s Day, which was a shot of novacaine to my brain.
Years earlier, I accepted a job to make the charters from the Lion King move into centerpieces. I have learned making one of these are fun, but when you have to do dozen of them, it is mind numbing.
The benefit is I have made this particular snowman for years now and I can do it in my sleep. I do not even mind helping my wife or making my son’s kindergarten class happy. It the repetitive process that is the killer. I do not know how the average person gets up and goes to work every day performing the same task over and over again. Here I sit making 21 snowmen and I think it is time for another cookie break. Do not worry honey; you will have your 21 snowmen by morning.