I have an embarrassing confession. I’m a lousy self-starter.
Back when I was young enough to be in school and actually knew other people who were as well, when people moaned about writing their master or doctorate thesis they’d always say “I LOVED the research and experimentation part. But the write-up? UGH. THAT I could have done without.” Then I’d sheepishly grin and admit that for me, the end *was* my favourite part. Tying loose ends; finding references to back up my facts; putting everything into a logical sequence; putting all of my random thoughts and work into a sensible document; that was the fun part!
My husband is the starter – the dreamer, the planner, the executer. I’m the one to follow-up/clean-up/put everything back in its place. And so it goes: he’s putting us on yet another path: to owning and running a family farm. He intends to stop working “for the man” very soon and launch a vegetable farm. He’ll sell at local markets and have a 40-ish family CSA.
He’ll get the whole thing rolling and run with it with abandon. As for me, I’m sure I’ll be there in the background – figuring out the stuff he’d rather leave to someone else, like making great market displays and finding ways to branch out the business.
Let’s see what the future holds!