It is SO ironic that today's theme is organizing. I can't remember when I last felt at ends this loose. It was a day full of attempts, and very little in the way of execution. An unfinished, undone day. An un-day.
Today I:
- attempted to drive to New York to spend the day with my family, but turned around shortly into our trip because I realized the folly of traveling 5 hours for a 1.5 hour visit. With a cranky, sick baby.
- attempted to return a long-ago-borrowed bowl from a family I don't know very well. As I cruised down their street, I realized I should really be returning it with something in it, even though the lender specifically said not to. I was suddenly seized with the fear that if I did not give the bowl back full of, say, fresh-baked almond bars, I would be seen as ungrateful and uncouth. So I kept driving and did not return the bowl.
- attempted to make almond bars. Took the butter out of the fridge to soften. Five hours later? It's still there on the counter.
- ventured out again to run a few errands. Ran one errand at CVS, even though my other destinations were within a block of it. Went to Kohls instead. Wandered aimlessly through the aisles.
- sat on the floor of my kitchen and thought about what I should do for the Radvent project. De-stash my sewing room? Finally clean up the suitcase that puked pink clothing all over my daughter's floor? Fold laundry? Sort through folders of digital photos on my computer? Felt overwhelmed. Continued sitting on kitchen floor.
- received phone calls. Did not return phone calls.
- took out the overflowing trash so that I could feel like I did one real thing today. Did not replace trash bag in the can.
- attempted to organize photos on my computer. On a roll! Got halfway through and Adelle woke up from her nap.
- brought wrinkly, days-old laundry down to fold while watching Community and 30 Rock. Left it in the basket and ate Hershey's Kisses.
if you don't know what to do,
do the next thing. water
the plants. cut the crusts of old bread
for the birds and feed the fruit
rinds to the garden. empty
the grounds from this morning's
coffee and tuck them in
with the hydrangeas, prepare
them for winter. let their black sleep
give way to blooms of springtime blue.
open the windows. unsettle
the dust on the sills and in the corners
so there will be space for new air.
let the rooms have room
to breathe, to be filled again
to the brim. there is much we can do
when we don't know what to do.
remember there is strength
even in standing still. let the world
do what it will all around you.
let the history of what was -
the old molecules of skin, hair and bone -
fill you up. let them become you.
you will carry them with you,
wherever you go, whenever
you are ready.-fall cleaning by laura burhenn
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