Thursday, June 7, 2018

an empty day...

... was the square on my calendar for Wednesday. Remarkably unusual for me, as there is always something in need of my attention at home, at work, with family demands, or all those miscellaneous assorted volunteering activities that occupy my time. Nothing at all in that little space marked the 6th, on the pages I depend upon to keep me going in the right direction at the right time - completely blank. A real oddity in  my life.

What I did was not nothing. Things of little consequence, none of the little things that were done to occupy my time were of importance, but busy nonetheless. I felt very accomplished when I got the screened porch swept off. Looking back, I should have been thoroughly mortified it has been so long since it has been cleaned. If that is the case (being mortified) I am already over it - hmmm... that didn't last very long, did it? The mow-and-blow guys come by and stir up everything, so I know my efforts will soon vanish, with the next appearance of the lawn service, but right this minute it looks quite tidy. I sit at a table typing, looking out big plate glass windows, through the screening out across the grassy lawn and into woods, and will enjoy the tidiness of that swept, clean porch as long as it lasts.

I had been postponing pulling in my iron to dispense with some wrinkled fabric for months. I do so thoroughly despise ironing chores, and avoid as long as possible. The necessity occurs when I find some of the little cotton or linen squares in the basket of dish towels that come to the house each week from the church. Occasionally there will be small white squares we use to cover communion bread, that will often get purple grape juice stains requiring a brief stay in bleach water to come clean. They will then, of course, need to be ironed before going back to church for another round. Not precisely neglectful, but I had let several of the little squares accumulate, clean but wrinkled before finally being reconciled to getting them ready to use. Ironed, crisply folded with neat creases, and ready for a return to service.

Seems like there is always some plant at my house that needs a new home. I realized yesterday when out puttering watering, pulling undesirables, moving things around that I am guilty of taking in strays. I don't let myself get lured into providing homes for orphaned domestic animals in need of care, but seem unable to resist plants aimlessly wandering down the street, having been put out and abandoned, lonesome and unloved. Historically my part has consisted of digging a hole and putting them in the ground, then complete neglect. Now, I do feel more of an obligation to nurture, provide at least  minimal effort to see them survive if not thrive. Therefore, there are things sitting around in pots, that I am trying to keep watered and stress-free, until I can figure out where to put it in the yard, or who I might pawn it off on so I can relieve myself of the responsibility!

Some of those plants in containers got planted earlier in the week, and some still sit patiently waiting, like incarcerated family pets at the shelter, optimistically hoping for affection.  I think I can get most of them re-located into 'forever homes' today. Which will put me back to zero, though that won't last for long. There is much to be said for homeownership, but there is also considerable (and endless) responsibility: no one else is going to step in and fix it - whatever the 'it' of the moment is. Always some problem in need of attention: leaks, paint peeling, filters replaced, routine cleaning, cobwebs, dirty windows (worse due to those untidy, indifferent mow-and-blow guys), an endless array of needs, sort of like small children who have endless urgent requirements. We are no different.

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