An 8’ by 3’ vegetable garden resides in my backyard this year. It’s a raised bed; I found out how to do it online. Used old boards from above the garage. Beans, spinach, cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes. And I really don’t care for tomatoes. Actually, no one in the house like tomatoes. But that wasn’t the point.

I wanted to do something. Scratch that; needed to do something. Sobriety comes with an abundance of free time. Or at least it feels that way to me. Sitting in a chair, staring at a wall, time moves slowly. Obsessing about being obsessive.

It’s a hobby, something that takes my mind off myself for a while. Simple repetitive tasks, even if they’re mental, serve as distracting jumping-jacks.

Boredom was the problem then. Today it’s complacency. Whatever boredom I experienced during my drinking days was out of habit. All of my time was “down” time. I was dwelling on the spinning circles in my head. Self-induced congestion.

What I’m asking for: That I can concentrate on something other than myself. As long as it’s good, beneficial, or at least not harmful, I can put down the shovel.

Unless someone needs a hole dug.

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