I love to putter. Very relaxing. I don’t know what Google says, but my definition of puttering is “catching up on chores at a leisurely pace while singing along to music, sometimes including a little happy-dance.” And if the weather is nice and the windows wide open, so much the better. Throw a nap and a Klondyke Bar somewhere in the mix and you’ve got a perfect putter-day.
For 23 years, I was chained to a desk five days a week and couldn’t putter unless I took vacation time to do it. My work week-ends were crammed with a million things not conducive to puttering. Puttering has to be done without rushing. That’s why it’s called puttering.
Now that I’m retired I can putter all I want. But a day or two a week is enough.
And it’s not like I’m in love with housework. As a matter of fact, when I was a stay-at-home mom with a husband and four kids I don’t remember digging housework all that much. Cleaning house when a husband and four kids live in it is like pissing in the wind.
But now I just clean up after myself and there’s plenty of other neat stuff going on in my life. So puttering is just one slice of a big ole delicious pie called retirement.