Endless Tasks

Endless tasks wear me out. As long as there is an end in site, I'm fine. Otherwise I lose my motivation.

I'm not talking about things you have to keep doing over and over again. Laundering dirty clothes, washing dishes and vacuuming the floor fall into this category. Yeah, keeping things clean is a forever task but every now and then it's all done. I can stand back, pat myself on the back for a job well done and relax.

Weeding is a borderline case. Yes, it is theoretically possible to eliminate every weed from the lawn and flower beds on my one acre lot. However, having never reached the mythical weed-free state in the last 12 years, for me weeding is an endless task.

The jury is still out on whether or not writing the book is an endless task. I haven't had time to touch it for several weeks but have been thinking about it a lot. After I finally got a chance to work on it again I completely reorganized the first 160 pages. Thanks, Terri and Mitzi for all your constructive criticism. Now if I can just figure out where to go with the rest of it.

Completing the family tree is another endless task. If records exist for a person you add to your tree, a green leaf appears next to their name. No matter how much time I spend clicking those damn leaves, more pop up. A hefty percentage of new leaves lead to new additions to the tree and still more leaves to click.

Before the search began I knew next to nothing about my family beyond my grandparents, and very little about them. When I started researching my heritage, each new discovery was cause for celebration. Now I groan, click the leaves and keep my fingers crossed hoping for a dead-end.

Thanks to a message from one of his descendants, my theory about the identity of my paternal great grandfather has been discredited. The three boys in question were married and/or away from the house in Paris when my grandfather would have been conceived. I'm grateful for the information but even more in the dark about who he might have been.

The mystery of my great grandfather leaves a big hole but is not the end of the world. I'm slowly but surely making my way back through the trees of my other seven great grandparents. Perhaps I'll stumble across more clues to his identity along the way.

Turns out, I'm descended from royalty. Once you hit a royal line the records go back forever. I've traced one line back to Charlemagne and another back to the Tudors and Plantagenets. That's right. Royalty. From now on, you can call me...

The Crotchety Old Man, Prince of Gripes